


Bleach Anthology

by halfdemonfan



Category: Bleach
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-19 18:48:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfdemonfan/pseuds/halfdemonfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A random grouping of oneshots to satisfy the Ichi/Hime in all of us. <br/>May include other pairings. Ratings to vary with chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No Tricks Just Treats

 

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* * *

**No tricks - only treats**

**Rating : M**

**Ichigo/Orihime**

**Halloween fun time!**

 

 

 

 

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This was not exactly what he'd planned to do with his Saturday night.

Actually, he didn't have any plans at all – and that worked well for him.

After the week he'd had, sitting in front of the TV, pointedly ignoring the ravings of his insane father, while he flipped through channel after channel of shitty programing was high on his to-do list. Unfortunately, his so called _friend_ Ishida had sent him a text in reminder of the homework they had due on Monday. Like he had time to copy down the problems. Of course there had been a fucking hollow wreaking havoc downtown and Kon was apparently too busy staring at whatever women was in the room to write the problems down!

Ishida said he hadn't finished his either, so he couldn't loan them out. Prick was probably lying just to annoy him. Chado was at work so he couldn't get up with him. Inoue wasn't answering her phone and he knew she wasn't at work. He wasn't immediately worried since she was probably watching some ridiculous TV show and had the ringer turned off. Which was why he was now walking to her apartment at nine o'clock when he could be vegging out on the couch after a rough week of school, his real world part-time job, and fighting hollows.

Ichigo just couldn't catch a break.

It was quiet in her apartment building, most of the tenants either in bed for the night or out partying for the weekend. He normally couldn't stand the tacky decorations people liked to put out for the holidays, but for some reason, the pumpkin she'd sat out by her door with a fierce scowl carved out of it made him smile. He raised his hand to knock, but the door flung open before he made contact. Rangiku looked back at him with equally shocked eyes, but didn't make any noise of surprise.

"But Rangiku-san!"

"No buts Orihime!" she called back to the healer's voice. "You know it looks great! Now I gotta get going or Taicho will get all pissy again. See you next weekend!" The busty woman nodded Ichigo inside while easing herself out. "She's in the back," she whispered before closing the door. The smile that crossed her face had his warning bells going off.

"But Rangiku-saaaan..." The whine she let out made him chuckle. He could just see her pouting at whatever Rangiku had said to her. After he slipped his shoes off by the door, Ichigo made his way down her short hallway. He didn't call out a greeting; not that he wanted to scare her, but his curiosity had been peeked and he wanted to know what she was pouting over.

Her bedroom door was open, so – assuming she was dressed – he peered inside the room.

Ichigo's mind came to a crashing halt.

Skin. Just so much damn skin was laid out right before his eyes, teasing him with its alabaster perfection.

What the fuck was she wearing?

The last functioning intelligent part of his brain caught sight of the small black ears on her head and the fluffy tail hanging right above her ass and concluded that this was supposed to be a Halloween costume of some sorts. She was standing in front of a mirror hanging on her wall, so he'd yet to see the front of this – this... _costume_ Rangiku had undoubtedly forced her to wear, but the view from the back was enough for Ichigo to know he would **never** allow her out of this house with it on.

He raised his eyes, just to see if she'd noticed him. She was still smoothing her hands down her stomach and an occasional whimper would pass her lips, so he was still clear for the moment. Damn, no matter how wrong it was to stand here and stare at his nakama like this, he couldn't get his body to cooperate.

He supposed it was leather - black, shiny, and entirely to tight – it hugged her body like a dream. Hell, the bottom of it was nothing but underwear! Clinging to her smooth curves, exposing her long, long legs for the world to see. That tail hanging down her back just drew attention to the area. There were no shoulders to the top; it simply wrapped around her abundant chest leaving her upper back – and a small area of her lower back – naked.

"Mou, how is this an appropriate Halloween costume Rangiku-san?" Orihime argued to the mirror. She lifted her hands and rubbed the exposed flesh along her shoulders, soon letting them trail down her tightly encased body. "There's no way I could wear this anywhere," she murmured.

Ichigo watched from behind as those fingers ran across the unmarred flesh of her body. Her long smooth neck, the curve of her shoulders, her thighs rubbing together in embarrassment the whole time.

A wall he'd built in his mind suddenly crumbled, allowing every dirty thought, every perverted dream he'd ever had about this beautiful woman in front of him to come rushing back to the forefront of his mind. None of the usual excuses he told himself were working either. She was his friend, an innocent woman, one of his nakama who he stood beside in battle...he was too tainted to ever touch someone as pure as her – the sight she provided had blown away every reason he had to stay away from her. The only thing left in its wake was an intense hunger that threatened to scorch him alive if left unappeased.

His body damned the consequences his mind was desperately trying to remind him of and he stalked across her bedroom floor to come stand right behind her. She'd felt his movement when he left the doorway and started to turn around, her hypnotic eyes wide with embarrassment and a slight fear from being startled. His large hand caught her shoulder and forced her back to stand facing the mirror. He positioned himself behind her, their bodies only barely touching.

"Kur...Kurosaki-kun," she stammered and tried in vain to hide her body from his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

He didn't answer her; only continued to stand behind her and look his fill at her body in the mirror before them. The corset style top she wore enhanced her already ample chest, lifting and barely covering them in the shiny black leather. He could see her legs trembling and she crossed them in an effort to hide herself from his view.

As if that helped anything.

She might as well be naked before him in this ridiculous outfit their shinigami friend had placed her in. The tremor in her legs had spread to the rest of her body. Her breathing hitched with every other breath and that blush on her cheeks spread down her exposed chest. Her hands did little in the way of shielding her from his eyes, though she continued to try.

When his eyes finally lifted in the mirror to meet hers, he knew she had an inkling of what was going on in his mind. The heat pounding through his body was easy to read in his darkened gaze. Her mouth opened on a gasp and – though she still trembled – she couldn't look away. Her chest began to rise and fall faster and her tongue came out to wet her suddenly dry lips.

Ichigo dropped his head to her neck, inhaling deeply of her rich scent. She was shaking so much now he had to place a hand on her waist to steady her. The raw heat coming off her body had a growl working its way past his lips. He took a step closer, now leaving no distance between them. Her body molded into his, soft curves meeting every hard line that pressed against her.

"Kuro..." she drew in a shaky breath, her melodic voice coming out in little more than a whisper. "Kuro...saki-kun...wha..."

He robbed her of speech when his other hand came to grip the silky skin of her bare thigh. Ichigo greatly approved of the whimper she let out and caressed the warm appendage under his calloused hand in reward. Her head lolled back, some of her bright auburn hair coming loose and tickling the back of her neck.

God this _want_ he had for her was stronger than anything he'd experienced before. The hand on her waist slid up her stomach, ghosting past her chest to lightly grab her neck and jaw. He tilted her head back even further, desperate to see what expression she was making as he took a giant leap across that line he'd drawn for himself ages ago. Her breath was coming out in quick pants, cheeks flushed in excitement, and eyes nearly closed while she tried to absorb every sensation he provided her.

Ichigo turned her chin away from him and finally gave in to the insatiable need to taste her. He ran his tongue down the length of her neck, pausing only at the base to gently bite the flesh there.

"Ahhh...Kuro...Ku..." He pressed his hand into her stomach, pushing her against his body and steadying her weak frame. His mouth never stopped during this. Ichigo lavished her naked skin with his lips, kissing every part of her hot flesh he could reach. When he pulled the lobe of her ear between his teeth, nibbling on the tempting flesh, a gasp left her that had heat running straight into his groin.

Threading his hands into her bright hair, he angled her head once more and covered her lips with his own. Her warm, moist lips eagerly welcomed his own. Desire like lightning shot through him and he could swear his skin was humming with the pressure of it all. He devoured her, his tongue slipping past her parted lips and exploring every inch of her. Orihime's hands gripped onto the strong arm he had thrown around her waist, her blunt nails digging into the skin there and somehow exciting him even further.

His hips rocked against hers reflexively, trying to find friction to ease the painful feeling in his swollen member. She whimpered into his mouth and lifted her hand to latch onto his neck. When she pushed herself even tighter against his body, his rumble of approval tickled against her back. Ichigo suddenly grasped both her hands and placed them against the wall on either side of the mirror they still stood in front of. He rested his head between her shoulder blades as they both gasped for breath.

He stood bent over her, admiring the way her body fit perfectly against his hips, trying to make himself slow down. The way things were going, he was about to give in to the desire to take her against the wall. Orihime deserved so much better than that. He was already being too rough with her as it was.

"I...ahh...Kuro..." She still panted beneath him, her face only inches from the mirror she'd been staring into earlier. He pressed a gentle kiss to her back, and let his tongue glide over her now damp skin. If he could just calm himself down a bit, he could ease these animalistic urges racing through his blood.

That idea got shot to hell the moment she pushed her ass back against his aching groin. It was his turn to moan in pleasure as she ground herself against the large lump hidden behind his jeans. Ichigo jerked her upright and spun her around to face him. He took her mouth once more, slanting his lips over hers again and again. With the free use of her hands, Orihime latched onto his shoulders and lifted herself higher – trying to get closer to the heat he provided.

His battle hardened hands slipped around the plump flesh of her thighs and lifted her, directing her to wrap her legs around his waist. He took two steps forward and pressed her against the wall. She threaded her hands into his hair, tugging at the bright orange locks as she returned his hungry kiss. He rocked into her hips, now pressing against that spot barely covered by the bottom she wore. Ichigo tore his mouth away only to latch onto her pulse point, sucking at the area hard while he pushed into her, trying to get as close as possible to her heat. Moans of pleasure filled the apartment, and hands began to rip away at any clothing standing between them.

Rangiku finally tore herself away from Orihime's bedroom window, satisfied that her Halloween 'treat' for the pair had paid off. The fukutaicho doubted she would ever get to see that cat woman outfit again. It was a bit of a loss, but it had served its purpose. For now, the buxom woman headed into town; she had shopping to do. There was another man she felt the need to give her particular kind of help to.

And she knew there was absolutely nothing in her closet that would fit such a petite shinigami.


	2. Peep Show

**Peep Show**

**Rating : T**

**Probably a bit different than my other works, but I said, Hey, why not?**

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* * *

Oh this was wrong.

This was so, so, SO wrong.

She knew that, was repeating that very mantra in her head, but regardless, couldn't make herself move away from her perch just outside that barely opened door. It was as if the blue men had taken control of her mind with their all powerful freeze ray and were forcing her to stay in this very spot and watch this private moment against her will. The lone pair in the otherwise empty room had gone silent for a moment, making her curiosity grow exponentially and she edged even closer to the opening, angling her head to get the very best view possible.

One petite figure stood with head bowed and hands gripping their shihakusho in nervousness. Orihime's heart went out to the trembling figure. The amazing courage they showed to stand there with their heart hanging from their sleeve was more than she'd ever hoped to do.

Ahh! She shouldn't be watching this! If she knew that then why did she want to suddenly grab a bowl of popcorn covered in chocolate sauce and devour it while watching this intense scene before her play out?

"Wha...What...did you say?"

Her eyes jumped to the larger figure. His jaw was hanging open, eyes wide with the shock of the previously uttered statement. Orihime took only a second to quickly glance behind her, assuring her that no one was coming down the halls to spot her terribly rude position of peeping on the unsuspecting couple, before once again plastering herself to the cracked doorway and watching in fascination once more.

"I said..." a long breath was heard, possibly the petite shinigami trying to steady their trembling voice. "I said...that I'm in love with you." A blush erupted over pale cheeks; raven hair suddenly covered that red face as they hung their head in embarrassment.

Orihime could feel her own heartbeat speed up at the second calling of that blunt confession. She felt nervous herself while awaiting a reply, but the taller figure continued to stand shell shocked.

Kami she wanted that popcorn. And a soda, preferably with honey flavoring.

"I...Are...wha..." The larger man floundered, unable to form the words he wanted. Orihime could see his muscular chest rise and fall quickly with his breath. When he said nothing else, the petite shinigami took a step back. She saw small hands coming to wipe at dark eyes quickly before finally standing upright with a timid smile.

"It's okay." _It's obviously not okay,_ she wanted to scream, but held herself in check. She'd already been such a horrible person by spying this long; she now wanted to stay until the end. "I didn't expect you to return my feelings after all. I just...I couldn't keep it to myself any longer. I've wanted to tell you how I felt for so long."

Orihime's hand flew to cover her mouth. This wasn't how it should go! You don't just stand there and not say anything when someone is pouring their heart out to you! Was this how it was going to end for the pair? Was she truly being witness to a heartbreak?

"Thank you for listening to me. I'll go now." Raven hair fluttered around that tiny face once more as the shinigami bowed deeply to the still stunned man. "Thank you and I'm sorry I've inconvenienced you Ganju-san."

Orihime scrambled back from the open door as the shinigami turned towards her. She didn't think she was seen because their head was still hanging low, the weight of their unanswered confession bearing down on them. She was about to take off down the hallway when Ganju's loud voice came from the room.

"Wa...Wait a second Hana!"

No sounds of footsteps sounded and the room was silent for a time. When she thought it safe, she turned back to the crack in the door once more. The afternoon sunlight was streaming through the window behind the pair and she had to duck down a little in order to avoid the glare. The sight that befell her curious gray eyes had her swallow down a squeal.

Ganju had his arms wrapped around Hanataro's tiny frame, stopping him from leaving the room in haste. Though a blush lit the tiny healers face, his eyes still held a tinge of sadness.

"It's...it's alright Ganju-san."

"No it isn't. Geez, give a guy a second will ya?" The shorter man tried to turn his head to look at the one holding him, but Ganju rested his chin against the crown of Hanataro's dark crown, preventing the effort. His voice dropped to a low, even tone. "You can't just drop something like that on me and not expect my mind to shut down for a minute."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

Orihime couldn't stop the nervous shifting of her weight as she continued to peek into the room. It was official; she had turned into a bad girl somewhere along the way. She promised to send up extra prayers tonight and ask her brother to forgive her for being so bold, but she found herself getting excited at the turn of events between this forbidden pair. She was rooting for Hanataro silently from beyond the door.

"You don't have to try and make me feel better Ganju-san. I understand if you don't feel the same way. I just..."

A light tap on the head – well, it was meant to be light by Ganju's standards, but on the slight frame of the shinigami it felt harder – stopped his sentence and he found himself being turned in the Shiba's arms.

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed. You're supposed to be the smart one Hana."

"What do you mean?"

Orihime was sure in that moment, that her face held the same expression as Hanataro's. Eyes growing wide, mouth parting in shock, red heat covering her face. Ganju's hand was wrapped around the smaller man's neck, pulling him forward, bending down to meet him, as his lips suddenly covered his own.

She should look away. This was private, something no one should bear witness to, but she once again blamed her inability to move on the blue men holding her hostage. Her eyes were frozen to the scene, watching silently as the men before her clung to each other as their lips met again and again. She wasn't sure which party moaned, but it was filled with such wanton pleasure that she felt her pulse quicken once more.

"Ganju-san..."

"It's alright Hana," Ganju said, rubbing his hand down the shinigami's back. "I'll make sure you understand me perfectly before I'm through."

She had watched them kiss once already, but even she felt the atmosphere around them changing as their lips met again. Hands began to wander, gasps of pleasure left their mouths, and as a pair of calloused hands reached for the tie on the petite man's robes, Orihime placed a shaky hand on the still slightly open door and closed it with the utmost care – ensuring it made not a single sound. Her heart was pounding and a nervous feeling fluttered round her belly as she took several steps back and turned to move away from the door.

What had she been thinking? Standing there, watching such a private and _intimate_ scene? Had all of the good sense her brother instilled in her truly left?

"What are you doing Inoue?"

Her auburn hair whipped about her face when she abruptly turned to the owner of that deliciously familiar voice. "Kurosaki-kun!" Her eyes shot to the door that shielded the new found lovers only steps away. They couldn't stand here and talk! Ganju and Hanataro would surely hear them if they didn't move away fast.

He arched an eyebrow at her overly startled features. He stared at her oddly for a moment before giving up on whatever he was about to say and settling for shaking his head in resignation. "Come on; Ukitake-san is waiting for us."

"O-Of course!" Any excuse she could find to move away quickly was fine with her. She rushed forward, grabbing Ichigo's hand, and began walking ahead of the vizard – drawing him away from the scene. After Hanataro had gathered all his courage to tell Ganju his feelings, she didn't want to be the cause of interrupting his happily received answer. When they finally exited the Fourth squad's barracks, she slowed her pace and turned to her companion.

"Which way Kurosaki-kun?"

"Ah...uh, y-yeah. This way." His right hand reached up to idly scratch the back of his neck before leading them down the main road. The barest tint of red had covered his cheeks before he averted his face from her gaze. Confused, Orihime watched him for a moment longer before the warmth in her hand registered in her distracted mind. When it did, she almost ripped her hand away out of embarrassment. While she had grabbed him in her haste to move away from that room, Ichigo still had her tiny hand enclosed with his own.

Should she apologize and move away from him? Her indecision had her following along blindly for several blocks as she racked her overwhelmed mind for an answer. Only when he tugged on her hand to turn them down another street did it hit her that he still had not let her go. He could have done so at any time, yet he continued to keep her fingers wrapped around his own.

Her blush deepened.

Perhaps she should stop daydreaming and wishing so much for things to happen. Maybe she could take a page from Hanataro's book and finally build up the courage it would take to share the feelings that she'd long harbored in her heart. There was no guarantee that her story would end as happily as his did, but she would never gain anything without trying.

Ichigo was still looking away from her, but, as her fingers curled just a bit tighter around his own, she could see the flush on his face deepen. A soft, shy smile lit her face and she sped up just a bit – enough to match her pace with his own.

Maybe she could ask him to walk her home when they got back from Soul Society. Would that be too brazen of her? Should she just wait and catch him after school one day? Gah! How did one pick an appropriate moment for this sort of thing?

His head turned to her for a moment and when she met his gaze with a sweet smile, that perpetual frown on his face lightened – the barest hint of a smile working its way to his face.

The very thought of saying it was making her nervous, but she refused to succumb to it this time. She just had to hold tight to this courage for a little longer. If Hanataro could take that giant leap then she swore she would too.

She was tired of waiting and wishing. Now, she was going to do something about it.

* * *

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**Oh come on! You know you all think they belong together too!**


	3. In a New Light

 

 

**In a New Light**

**Rating: M**

**More Naughtiness...maybe part 1?**

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* * *

"I'm open!"

"Get it Orihime-chan!"

"Oomph...it's coming to you Tatsuki-chan!"

Ichigo tugged a bit at the length of his shorts and readjusted himself on the hard bench he and most of the male members of his class sat upon. He swiped at the sweat on his brow, blaming its existence on the hot afternoon sun.

"Go for it girls!" One of the more enthusiastic men shouted. Ichigo sent a narrowed gaze down the row, but none of the red faced teens were inclined to remove their eyes from the field.

"I'm open!"

"Shi..."

"Score!" Orihime jumped in joy and ran to her best friend, launching herself at the tom boy who was currently grinning at the sour look on the goalie's face. "That was awesome Tatsuki-chan!"

The dark haired girl patted her back a few times before easing herself away from the busty red head. "Yeah, yeah...I _was_ good wasn't I?"

The girls now surrounding them laughed at the cocky smirk that appeared on the karate champs face. When those eyes narrowed and her stance widened, most of them moved aside in knowing preparation for what was about to occur.

"Your run was such a sight to behold Orihime-cha..."

"Don't touch her you psycho lesbian!" Tatsuki screamed as she landed a well placed kick to Chizuru's stomach. The once smiling girl doubled over as her groping came to an abrupt stop.

"Tatsuki-chan!"

"Don't look at me like that Orihime. She deserved it."

"But..."

"Oi, where'd Ichigo go?" She knew any mention of their punk friend would halt all other thoughts going through that scatter brain of hers. She watched the stormy eyes sweep the side lines of the soccer field for his presence.

"I...I don't know. He was right there a second ago."

"Hmm?" Tatsuki threw her arm around her friend's shoulders, giving her an all knowing grin. "Keeping tabs on him even during the game?" She chuckled as a fierce blush erupted on the healer's face.

"It...I wasn't...oh! Tatsuki-chan! Stop teasing me!"

The fighter couldn't help but want to continue her antics, but a call from across the field caught her attention.

"Oi, Arisawa! Come here for a sec!"

"Hang on!" She disengaged herself from Orihime and tossed a hand over her shoulder. "I'll be back Orihime."

"Okay," she waved her friend off cheerfully. "Hmm...I wonder where Ichigo went."

* * *

Ichigo slumped against the wall of their empty locker room and let his head bang rather hard against the brick as a frustrated sigh left his lips. He could deal with this annoying problem most days rather well, but when something like this was presented before his eyes, it was simply too much for the vizard to handle.

Those tight shorts, the white shirt pulled across her large chest, the fucking running up and down the field.

Was it any wonder he was left in such a suffering state?

He shifted against the wall and hissed as his own shorts brushed against the large erection making itself known. This wasn't a situation he was going to be able to ignore. The cute smiles she normally sent him throughout the day or the way her skirt bounced against the backs of her thighs while she walked would send a twitch straight to his groin, but it was never anything like this. Ichigo was in a painful state that was begging for some type of release.

He knew he shouldn't have watched her, tried his best to ignore her very presence on the field, but inevitably his eyes would be drawn to the flash of bright auburn hair blowing in the breeze. Orihime had been drawing his attention for the better part of a year, but it had progressed way beyond stealing glances at her smiling countenance. His eyes now scrutinized her body with the same zealousness an artist would eye his work. No detail was ever left untouched.

This was a daily occurrence.

And it left him wanting.

A shudder passed through his body as the mere recollection of her voluptuous body racing down the field sent another spear of desire straight through him. His eyes glanced towards the door, seeing once more that it was locked. This wasn't something he wanted to do nor was he proud of it, but his body would be denied no longer. It wasn't like it would take very long at the rate he was going anyway. _Oh God_ , he really was turning into a pervert.

But, as his hands slipped his shorts down and he finally made contact with his throbbing length, the pleasure that coursed through his body...just how damn **good** it felt, washed those unimportant thoughts from his mind. His chocolate eyes closed in bliss as his hand made the first few slow strokes down that heated flesh. Ichigo's mouth parted on a silent groan, his fingers tightening even more.

Orihime had just been so beautiful today. Her eyes seemed to shine even more as the game had gotten her excited. She wasted no time and sprinted after the ball again and again, her breasts bouncing with every step. He'd been mesmerized as that tempting flesh moved up and down, lifting her shirt the slightest bit at times. A low moan passed his throat; he lightly pinched the tip of his erection, feeling the moisture already gathering there.

His calloused hand continued to stroke that hot steel as visions of her white thighs glistening with sweat flashed through his mind. He wanted to taste her, run his tongue over that smooth skin, feel her tremble beneath his own hands.

He gripped the base of his shaft while his other hand squeezed just a little tighter, moved just a little faster.

Ichigo's mind whirled with visions of her naked, spread out on his bed as he drove himself into her wet heat. Her legs would be locked around his waist, clenching around him while he'd be relentless in his attacks on her body.

His mouth went slack and he openly panted with the tremors beginning to rack his body. He tugged harder on the hot length in his hand.

Maybe he should make her ride him; lay there and watch her seductive body rock above him while he thrust up into her tight entrance.

His tongue trailed along his lips, wishing it were her own flesh he were tasting. The muscles of his body clenched and he jerked, barely stifling his scream, as waves of pleasures racked his body. His hand continued to move along that hard flesh, slowly stroking as he tried to prolong his orgasm.

With trembling hands, he reached for his previously discarded towel and wiped the evidence of his climax off his hands. As the high from his pleasure began to recede, he felt the frustration of the situation come over him once more. He couldn't continue to simply leer at her body and let his fantasies drive him to these acts of self-pleasure. He knew what he needed to do, but he wasn't sure if even his own courage was enough for this.

* * *

She backed away slowly, afraid she would make even the slightest noise and be discovered. It didn't matter that she had to take several detours to grab her school bag and finally leave the campus, as long as she wasn't seen. Her cheeks were flushed, she could feel her nipples tightening and protruding from behind the confines of the white shirt she wore. The curtain of her long hair was the only defense she had against the eyes of those around her on the busy sidewalks. A strong pull was tugging at her lower abdomen and she was instantly ashamed at the moisture she could feel making itself known inside her underwear.

Her search for him was innocent, but what she discovered was far from that. The scene she'd been unable to tear herself away from was permanently burned into her brain. Nothing could have torn her eyes away from the sight of that thick length encased in his hands.

She licked her lips unconsciously.

The wants and fantasies she'd had previously had suddenly been thrust into a new realm.

One that she was both afraid of and very, very excited to explore.


	4. Chapter 4

**Fixation**

**Rating: M**

**Ichi/Hime**

**Okay, no idea how long this has been in my files but I happily found it today. Sorry that I'm posting it without a great deal of editing but I'm currently in the hospital with my mother and don't have time to spare on such things. I think I'm having withdrawals from not writing/posting though, so I really just want to put this up. It's a definite PWP that I wrote some time back. And...yeah...just kinda go with it? :)**

**Hope to be back to the grind soon! Thanks in advance for reading/reviewing!**

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* * *

Orihime watched, nails curling into her tender thighs, as the bright haired vizard cursed and stomped around his room. While she would usually feel a fluttering of nervousness at having come into his – completely empty – home, much less his bedroom where she now sat, there was no opportunity to do so today.

The few gangs – as they liked to refer to themselves – that had once bothered the students of Karakura High had for some reason began coming back to the school they found themselves sadly out matched at by the very man blazing a path around his room. To make matters worse, they brought other allies. Not that Ichigo didn't have his own friends to call upon, though he was loathe to do so. He never had to ask for the assistance of Ishida and Chado – they somehow materialized at the appropriate moments and helped him dispose of the wanna-be thugs that called out to him seemingly everyday. After countless trials and defeats to the heavily pierced teens outside the school grounds, they decided to try a different tactic.

"Stupid sons-of-bitches!"

Orihime winced at the snarling tone that passed through the Kurosaki's mouth. The face that she could gaze at for hours on end was contorted in a fierce scowl, his eyebrows almost meeting in the middle while his lips pulled back in a sneer.

It was only coincidence that they had been walking together after school – Ichigo intending to escort her only as far as the convenience store he needed to visit before he went home. When they rounded yet another corner on the way towards said store, a group of obviously angry, some previously beaten, men stood in their way. Ichigo had moved instinctively in front of Orihime as the maliciously grinning thugs began pulling out the various instruments they had brought to try and finally fell the strong fighter. Orihime could do nothing besides watch as he stood his ground against the dozen or so men who brandished bats, chains, and a rather gaudy pair of brass knuckles.

Though he won, it was not without some sustaining some injuries himself. Fighting in his human body was much different than fighting as a shinigami and she knew he would be holding back his strength and skill for fear of doing permanent damage to the humans – no how much they belittled and cursed him. This same pattern had been going on for over a week and the healer could see the stress it was placing on the substitute. He ripped his bloodied and torn shirt off as he continued to pace around his room. He was so lost in his constant mutterings that Orihime doubted he even remembered her presence.

While the busty young woman was glad to see he'd only received minor injuries in the fight, the tense lines of his broad shoulders stood out as he rotated his neck – the joints popping with each flex he made. Ichigo finally stopped his angry parade, plopping himself down on the edge of the bed and letting his bright orange head hang low as he rested his forearms on his muscular thighs.

Orihime fiddled a bit as she desperately thought of something she could do for him. Fighting those large men – human though they may be – was not something she would be able to do for him, and she knew he wouldn't allow her to do so anyway. She'd only been able to stay out of his way as Ichigo fought their every advance; even when their perverted eyes and raunchy comments made their way to her ears. She could give him a cheerful word of encouragement, but she didn't think that was the best thing she could do given his mood at the moment. As he yet again stretched his neck to the side, a barely audible groan passing his lips, she thought of the perfect way for her to help him.

"Kurosaki-kun?" she called out, rising on her knees just a bit. He turned surprised eyes to her and she knew she'd been right about him forgetting her presence. He opened his mouth a fraction as his eyes took on a softer look and she interrupted him before he could think to apologize. "Could you lay down for me?"

That surprised look lasted only a moment more before he waved a vague hand in her direction. "Don't worry Inoue, I'm fine. You don't have to heal me."

She rose to her feet, moving closer to where he sat on the bed. "Just lay down for me, please? On your stomach."

"Wh..."

" _Please_." Orihime made sure to use the face she always gave Tatsuki-chan when she wanted to stop for vanilla ice cream with honey and gummy bears after they got out of school. It had never failed her...even during the winter. It was hard, but Orihime kept herself from grinning and laughing with triumph when he blew out a breath, but positioned himself on the bed as she'd asked. The healer waited for him to get comfortable before she approached the bed and – fighting back her blush – knelt by him on the mattress. She saw Ichigo's eyes glance up to her face in confusion, but she ignored that gaze for the moment and placed her hands on his warm flesh.

Her fingers slid up his taut back, gliding over the smooth skin, before she gently gripped the stiff muscles of his shoulders and began the slow process of working the knots out. He tensed even more as she first placed her hands upon him, but Orihime refused to be so embarrassed about this bold step of hers that she would pull away. Since her abilities in battle were still very lacking, Orihime knew all she could do for him was to heal his wounds after the fact. As far as she was concerned, this was basically the same thing. Ichigo had been on edge for the past several days, never knowing when more of these people would seek him out to try and force him to fight. Relaxing his over worked muscles was the best she could do for him at the moment.

The vizard's shoulders finally relaxed under her touch and his eyes slid shut. "You don't have to do this for me."

She smiled at the almost obligatory sounding statement he made; his voice barely concealing his sigh of pleasure. "There's nothing else I know to do for you."

"You don't have to..."

"Besides," she said, interrupting him once more. "I used to do this for onii-chan." Her hands slid up the base of his neck, her thumbs pressing slow circles into the thick muscles there. "Sometimes, after he would come home from working so hard that day, I could tell he was tired and stressed out while we ate dinner. After he would get out of the bath, I would give him a massage to help him relax before we went to bed. Though I'm not sure how much help an eight year old's hands were."

Orihime slid her fingers down further, tracing the line of his spine and rounding under his left shoulder blade. As she pressed into the thick knot her delicate fingers found there, a low groan passed his lips. "I think I'd guarantee it helped."

She chuckled lightly, but didn't respond to his statement. What she wanted most for him right then was to relax completely and the best way for that to happen was if they weren't carrying on a conversation – though she was sure that would help alleviate her embarrassment. Even if her fingers could remember the familiar movements she used to use on her onii-chan, the warm skin beneath her hands was most definitely different from the only other person she'd ever done this too.

She slid her hands downward, pressing her palms into his back before sweeping them up once more. Orihime increased the pressure behind her touches, lightly digging into the broad expanse of his back. His accompanying groan told her that was the right choice. At the base of his spine, she let her thumbs meet and began rubbing small circles up his long torso.

Though she'd seen him shirtless before, it had never been in such close contact as this. It amazed her how much larger his back was as her hands stretched across him. Fingers gliding against tan skin began mapping out this new treasure before her stormy eyes. As she turned her attention to his right shoulder, the tiny imperfections on his body glared up at her – begging her to investigate these new discoveries.

A freckle positioned just a few inches above the waist of his jeans caught her attention more than the fireworks at the end of the summer festival. She smoothed the pads of her fingers along the skin there, just to see if she could feel the tiny light brown circle. Even though she couldn't, that didn't stop her fascination with the spot. Again and again she twirled her fingers around the area, enthralled by this finding. Ever the one for taking new journeys, her clever digits walked across the sea of tanned skin before her – eager to spot new landmarks across this previously unknown body before her. A light streak across his side just below his ribs caught her eye. Fingers danced over the slightly raised skin of a pale scar, yet another discovery for her to investigate.

* * *

The red tint covering his cheeks had long faded away when Ichigo first noticed the difference behind Inoue's addictive touches. When her hands first made contact with his tense body, he hid his face amongst the pillows he laid upon to hide the embarrassment and slight discomfort he felt. It wasn't that he was against her doing this for him, but the knowledge that his attractive female friend was alone with him in his bedroom, _on_ the bed with him was now at the forefront of his quite active teenage mind. Having her hands trail across his naked back only added fuel to the proverbial fire.

However, when she began working at the knots pulling his shoulders tight, he conveniently forgot all about the improprieties of the situation and simply enjoyed the heavenly feeling her every touch brought. As her hands moved down his spine, he cursed himself for never having her do this before. Even now, limbs all but slack against the bed while she did something with her fingers that had him biting back a moan, he was thinking of every possible excuse he could find to one day beg her for this luxury again. Ichigo knew her brother had worked hard to raise her by himself, but if he had this kind of treatment often, surely it had to be worth it. Suddenly, fighting those ignorant delinquents every day didn't seem to have been so bad.

Just as he began to give in to the whispers of sleep, he'd felt her hands lingering over his lower back. He thought nothing of it at first, simply enjoyed the near tickling touches. However, she continued to hover there, her fingers now stroking his flesh more than massaging it. Ichigo turned his head, disappointment already filling his chocolate eyes when he thought the session was over, but the sight that greeted him was more curious than he thought.

Inoue's eyes weren't glancing towards his, but focusing on his skin in a dazed state. While her fingers trickled over his skin, she giggled softly under her breath and circled the same spot over and over. Her palms flattened against his skin, but instead of continuing her earlier task, she leaned even closer to his body and continued to tease the skin there. She moved up further, now focusing on the small scar he knew he had along his side - an accident on the steps leading into a nearby park when he was five left the little reminder.

"What's this?" She whispered to herself, tracing the pale patch of skin and smiling. He didn't answer her, didn't think she asked the question of him, and sat there silently as she looked her fill.

Was she daydreaming again?

By every account he could see, that's what she appeared to be doing. Sometimes in class, her eyes would almost glaze over and fixate on a random spot on the wall producing an unwavering stare that he was familiar with. Ichigo realized she had odd dreams that would plague her day and night, and he simply believed she had done it once more. While it was disappointing since it seemed she wasn't going to continue those soothing touches any longer, he thought to call out to her and draw her back from whatever alien/robot dream plagued her pretty head. Inoue's lips suddenly pursed in pout that he refused to allow his preoccupied brain to process as adorable and her fingers slipped under his torso, pulling slightly at the skin – trying to see the end of the faint white line.

"No hiding from me," she whispered in mocking tone, her auburn hair sliding from behind her ears as she tilted her head in perusal. She seemed so insistent on the matter that Ichigo turned – almost unconsciously – to allow her better view of the scar. When he settled on his back and his chest was now in full view for her, that sweet giggle left her lips once more. Her palms flattened over his side, gliding across the contours of his well defined body.

That crimson flush, though once removed from his face, returned full force as the young woman leaned over him, studying him more closely than anyone had before. Those feather light touches were stirring something within him, awaking his nerves with lightening force. Orihime traced the small puckering of skin for a moment more before her hands began to wander again. Now, with a new area to investigate, her fingers danced over the dips and grooves of his chiseled torso. Ichigo bit his lip to hide the hiss threatening to escape his mouth as her nails raked lightly across his body.

"Inoue." He cursed the guttural tone his voice held, but called for her once more, trying to draw the girl out of her musings and save him from embarrassing himself. "Inoue."

She didn't respond. A light dusting of pink now crossed her face and her lips were open slightly as her breathing picked up its pace. Those devilish hands of hers slid up his stomach before running across his chest. His gut clenched when the pads of her fingers brushed across his nipples. His gaze was riveted to the sight of her small, pink tongue swiping across her lips.

Ichigo was in trouble and he knew it wouldn't be much longer before he could no longer hide it.

Teeth came out to nibble gently on her bottom lip in frustration when she couldn't reach all of him properly. Leaning her weight against him, Orihime shifted on the bed until she could straddle his waist, bringing his body into her full reach.

Ichigo panicked.

With wide eyes and a red face his hands came up to grip her wrists. "Inoue, hold on..."

The look she sent him was more of a discontented pout than an angry glare, but she batted his hands away. Her fingers dug into his chest until he could feel the prick of her nails. "No..." She wiggled just a bit, enough to make him clench his teeth and groan against the pleasure. A sinful smile filled her face. "My Kurosaki-kun."

_Shit, shit, shit..._

What was he supposed to do? What the hell was even going through her mind to produce such a look from – what he had always assumed – such an innocent girl?

_You._

Oh he truly tried to ignore that mocking voice from some deep place inside of him, but when her hands trailed down his sides once more, it was difficult to do. Whatever daydream she'd gotten caught up in, he now knew for a fact that he was at the forefront of her mind.

_Are you just gonna let her do whatever she wants? Don't you feel bad for taking advantage of your friend?_

Who exactly was taking advantage of who here? Still, that strong sense from his conscious was right. He shouldn't be letting this happen.

A cool, wet sensation slid across the flat plane of his belly and the accompanying jolt went straight to his groin. His fingers dug into the blanket beneath him to keep from simply grabbing the woman and reversing their positions. Whatever argument he'd been having with himself was long forgotten at the erotic sight she presented – eyes closed, rosy lips dancing across his belly, shimmying her way down his hard thighs to reach every place she wanted.

The path she blazed down his now hypersensitive skin burned with unyielding lust. His skin tingled and his member began to twitch with want.

 _Dammit_.

Maybe this was intentional on her part. What if she was actively trying to seduce him? Was that even possible? Still, he shouldn't give in so easily to something like that. Their friendship was important to him.

Her nose pressed against the large lump in his pants, nuzzling against the cloth covered appendage.

 _Fuck it_.

God he couldn't take his eyes away from the sight. Her auburn head bent between his thighs, the tiny sighs that escaped her as she mouthed his still concealed member. Her fingers toyed with the waistband of his school trousers, slipping beneath it and teasing the yet undiscovered flesh before finally gripping the button and easily popping it open.

"In..oue," Ichigo panted, the pleasure and anticipation of what she was doing over riding his senses. "You...this is..."

"Shh..." she scolded, easing the zipper down. "I wanna know..." she peeled the fabric away slowly, the tip of his engorged flesh now peeking at the stormy eyed girl. "what Kurosaki-kun tastes like."

His body shuddered, moisture leaked from the tip, and he audibly whimpered as her warm breath accompanying those husky words blew over him.

When she succeeded in pulling his pants away enough to fully expose him for her eyes, the sinfully beautiful girl licked her lips once more in undisguised hunger. Ichigo wanted to scream as he sat for what felt like forever as she stared her fill of him. His muscles were shaking with the need he barely kept in check. Just as he thought the torture could go on no longer, Orihime moved forward. Her petal soft lips ran up the base of him, bottom lip tugging along as she simply felt him. A warm tongue encircled that throbbing flesh, licking a hot path upwards until she took him into her mouth fully.

That hiss he once contained now slipped past clenched teeth. It was pleasure that radiated through his whole body, making itself known in every crevice of his being. That wet heat moved along him, teasing his hardness until he felt as if he could cry out from the tortuous pleasure of it all. Sounds he never thought he'd make reverberated off his bedroom walls as Orihime fucked him with her mouth.

Her hand gripped the base of his thick length, squeezing him as she pumped her hand down that hot steel. Ichigo's mind was whirling, his senses overloading as the busty woman worked over him. His eyes were momentarily drawn to her plump ass sticking up while she bent over his thighs. A vision of himself pounding against that ivory flesh flashed before his mind, further hardening the blood engorged member. Her lips smacked against him, making him shudder and turn his eyes back to her beautiful face.

Watching the crown of that auburn hair bob along his flesh was surely the most enticing sight he'd ever bared witness to. Her flushed cheeks sunk in as she applied suction to her ministrations and Ichigo swore he saw white. His calloused hand reached out, finding the smooth skin of her ivory arm and he gripped that tender flesh. It was barely enough to sooth the twitch in his palms that begged for him to grab the woman and bury himself in another source of her hot, wet heat.

The healer's other hand came to cradle his balls, lightly squeezing them in her tiny hands. The vizard clenched his jaw, gripped the side of his mattress, and did his best not to hurt her arm as his muscles started to shake with the jolts of white hot pleasure streaking through them. His mouth hung open, panting, as that precipice came within his grasp.

"Inoue...move...I'm..."

Orihime's dark eyes locked with his and she only mumbled around the thick length deep within her throat. The hand on her arm shot to entangle itself within her hair. Ichigo's body drew tight as a string as that fireball of pleasure ruptured within him, shooting waves of white heat into every inch of his body. Though he didn't hold her there, Orihime kept her mouth wrapped around his member – sucking him dry as the spasms wracked his lithe form.

Ichigo floated down from his high, feeling the exhaustion seep into his body and blanking his mind of everything. He knew there were things that needed to be discussed, lines that had been crossed that they needed to decide how to handle, but at that moment, he honestly didn't care.

A soft giggle sounded from the end of his bed and he reluctantly opened his chocolate eyes. Orihime swiped one finger across her bottom lip, collecting some of the evidence of his climax on the tip of her finger. How he could be half hard once more when he just felt so drained was a mystery, but he was pretty sure it was largely connected with watching her slip that slender digit past her plump lips and licking away the remnants of his seed.

Past the point of concern, Ichigo reached out – grabbing Orihime by the shoulders and pushing her beneath his strong body. They could work out the details later; right then, Ichigo had some discoveries of his own to make.


	5. In a New Light - Part 2

**In a New Light – Part 2**

**Rating: M**

 

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A moan, bordering on sinful, escaped Orihime's lips as she eased her tired body into the hot water. Pining her mass of auburn hair atop her head, the young woman leaned back against the cool tile and shifted her voluptuous body until just the tips of her knees and the top of her bountiful chest lay above the steamy water. It had been a long, hard week – at school, work, and fighting the occasional hollow – and she was exhausted. While she knew some of the girls in her class were right now at a mixer they'd begged her to go to, she had no problem spending her Friday night soaking in a relaxing bath before heading to bed.

Working part-time at the bakery while trying to study for finals was taking its toll on even her usual energetic self. Add in the time spent trying to keep the otherwise unknowing Karakura citizens (and souls) safe from the hollows and she was in no shape to even call her best friend to set up their usual weekend time. There was one other thing that had demanded a lot of her attention this week, but she'd been desperately trying to ignore that rather persistent memory.

It had been roughly one week since she'd unwittingly witnessed that...private moment of Kurosaki-kun's. Since her eyes fell on that particular incident, her over-active imagination had not given her a moments rest. Whether she was recalling the events as they had unfolded, or if she was creating some of the most vivid – and highly inappropriate – scenarios her mind could muster, it ruled her mind both day and night. Worse still was the effect it seemed to have on her body.

Now Orihime wasn't a stranger to getting flustered when her heart's desire was particularly close to her, but since bearing witness to his self-gratification, the feelings shooting through her body were new and much more powerful. Not two days ago, while battling a hollow in a nearby park, Kurosaki-kun had to grab her and speed out of the way before the hollow's giant spike filled tail could crush her where she stood. He'd come to a stop several yards away, but unconsciously held her in his arms another moment while he watched the path the hollow would take. Her hands were pressed against his chest where she braced herself during transport and – now that the immediate danger was over – her brain took to cataloging every nuance of the warm, bare skin her fingers touched in the deep V of his kosode. Her heart rate nearly doubled as the spicy scent that belonged to him alone washed over her. With red cheeks she silently acknowledged the prickly sensation of her nipples tightening beneath her shirt. She was both sad and grateful to have been released from his arms shortly thereafter. Any longer, and she was sure she would have embarrassed herself and put him in a very awkward situation.

" _Ah!_ " Orihime exclaimed with a mixture of alarm – and shocking pleasure – when her arms accidentally brushed against her chest and she found her nipples tightened into small, pink buds once more. No longer lost in thought over Kurosaki-kun's body, she was ashamed to discover the state of her own. That antsy feeling was making itself known once more, her skin tingled, and she could feel the beginnings of a deep ache in her lower belly. She no longer simply became happily excited when she thought of her brave shinigami substitute; it turned into a full body yearning that made her heart race.

Curiosity, and not just a little burning want, fueled her hesitant fingers to brush against the tight pebble at the tip of her breast once more. The delicate flicker sent across that spot had a shiver running up her spine – and an insatiable desire to do it once more. With each tentative touch to her humming body, the young woman found herself falling deeper and deeper into an unknown land of pleasure that was claiming her full attention.

Was this anything like what Kurosaki-kun felt as he held that thick part of his body in his hand? Was it those same calloused hands stroking that foreign flesh that brought about that look on his face she'd never seen before?

Recalling that scene had a sharp throb pulsing between her thighs and she whimpered as she took each breast within her hands and squeezed them lightly. " _Ahhh..._ " Her head fell back as another jolt of pleasure seemed to shoot straight between her thighs at the contact. Oh this was bad. It was bad and there was no way it could be the proper, right thing to do, but...

But, Orihime assured herself once again that her front door was firmly shut and locked, she'd already checked all her windows to ensure they were locked up tightly, and she was the only person in her apartment – the only one in her bathroom. Her eyes closed of their own volition once more and Kurosaki-kun's panting, erotic face flooded her mind. Without warning, a deeper moan was torn from her throat as her thumbs ran across her protruding nipples the same moment that heat flooded her body. The resulting pull at her lower belly was unlike anything she'd ever experienced.

" _Hmm._ " That place between her thighs was practically throbbing now and, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth, she slid one of her hands down her water slicked body. Was it the the water or her wild fantasies forcing that heat to pour out of her skin? The fingers trailing down her flat belly nearly burned with the warmth it exuded. She couldn't be bothered to put any thought into figuring out that question as her fingers finally made contact with the small thatch of curls shielding her untouched womanhood. A vision of his warm, dark eyes staring at her filed her mind and she slipped one finger past that cleft and brushed against the taught nub hidden there.

The effect was enough to cause her legs to jerk with the unexpected shot of pleasure. Orihime kept her eyes shut tight – half afraid to see her own hand touching herself like this – but she never removed that devilish finger from its position. She rolled that single digit once more, gasping with the shock wave it sent through her.

She'd never been more aware of her own body.

Her toes curled under the warm water as her legs began to shift restlessly. A graceful arch bent her spine, her head tilting back as this feeling took hold of her. A warm, prickling sensation spread across her thighs, begging her to touch them. Her breasts ached with a need she wasn't able to articulate. Even the back of her neck called out for the heat of her palm.

Eyes still closed, her finger continue to torture and tease the ever hardening nub between her folds as her other hand roamed her body – touching her own skin in ways she'd never thought of before. As her nails raked up the expanse of her legs, she thought of Kurosaki-kun's dark eyes and full lips. Her hand gripped the back of her neck as she recalled his strong arms. She envisioned the pale, slender hand gripping her large breasts as the vizard's own.

A coil was wound tight in her belly, pulsating with every breath she took and driving her body to the brink, but never pushing it past that edge. With a frustrated groan, her hand slid down just a little further – delving even farther into that hot place. Her chest heaved with each panted breath and she ran her tongue over parched lips. The sticky moisture covered her finger even before she fully pushed that digit past her tight entrance. It was a strange, foreign feeling – but not unpleasant. Odd that she could be touching that single place, but seem to feel it all over her body. The heel of her hand brushed against that taught nub as her fingers curled within that hot cavern and the healer swore she saw white.

" _Hahhh...hmmm..._ " She leaned her head against the cool tile, sweat trickling down her temples and her hips began to rock against her own hand. This was where he should be. Trapped in the cradle of her thighs, rocking into her...this was where Kurosaki-kun should be. Would be.

A fever had taken hold of her. To hell with the right and wrong of it all – she simply wanted to feel him there; have that thick part of himself she bore witness to pushing inside of her. With trembling fingers, she grasped the full bounty of one heavy breast and squeezed it roughly as she continued to push her fingers into that tight, wet place. " _Aaa...I...there...hah..._ "

She wasn't sure what she was saying; didn't truly care either. That precipice was moving closer and closer to her grasp. Her muscles were quivering, breath shaky, toes curling as the pressure built and built under her ministrations.

Faster...just a bit faster, she moved her hand under the rippling water.

Just a bit harder, as that tightly wound coil prepared to snap.

Orihime pulled her fingers back, finding that taught nub once more and pinching it in her euphoric state.

Her back arched as she was pushed over the edge, mouth open on a silent scream as waves of torturous ecstasy washed over her. It rippled up her body, tightening her muscles and making her fingers dig into the tender flesh of her thighs. It was unlike anything she'd known and too massive to name. Orihime simply shut her eyes and rode the new found feeling for all it was worth. Whimpers escaped her once she found her voice and the flushed healer slumped against the tub – pleasurable exhaustion filling her limbs.

Minutes ticked away before she found the strength to move her trembling muscles. She washed herself once more before finally exiting the now lukewarm water. Her mind continued to be blissfully blank as she went about the task of donning her pajamas and releasing the stopper in the tub. Her body on auto-pilot, she ran a brush through her silky locks and pulled her futon out to rest. It wasn't until she was standing at the kitchen counter, drinking a much needed glass of water, that a now lingering sense of guilt began to build.

Was it terribly wrong of her to imagine Kurosaki-kun in such an erotic way? She was sure it was, but at the moment, she was still reeling from such a mind blowing experience that she couldn't chastise herself too badly. When the morning light came and she slept off the bone weary tiredness that filled her body, Orihime was sure she would not be able to look herself in the mirror – much less make eye contact with Kurosaki-kun.

Placing the glass in the sink to wash later, Orihime made her way through the apartment turning off the lights for the night. However, before she could make her way to the switch for the main room, a hesitant knock sounded at her door. The unexpected sound had her snapping out of her post-orgasmic lethargy and glancing at the clock to assure herself of the late hour. Her bare feet moved silently across the floor, bringing her to the door where she rose on tip-toe to stare through the peep hole at her would be visitor.

She pulled back a bit, shook her head to clear her mind, before leaning forward and double checking her visitor once more. It was with quick fingers and a confused look on her face that she opened her door wide and stared back at the man standing on her welcome mat.

"Kurosaki-kun?"

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**Part 3?**


	6. Chapter 6

**In a New Light – part 3**

**Rating : M**

**One of these days, I'm going to write a one-shot that isn't 20 pages long.**

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"Kurosaki-kun?"

The vizard hoped the shock on her face wasn't mirrored on his own.

Ichigo wasn't sure what made his feet move in her apartment's direction once he left work. It was instinctual; something stemming from the fact that she'd been on his mind constantly for the past week.

Both day and night.

He hadn't even had the foresight to try and think of what he was going to say once she opened her door and now that he was here, his mind was blank.

She stood before him, dressed for bed in her low slung pajama pants and too big for her body t-shirt, with damp hair and smelling like her shampoo.

Fruity...maybe strawberry?

He should probably get around to saying something to her, but the reality of being here, at her apartment, in the dead of night, when he'd been thinking about the many, _many_ ways he wanted to hold her had short circuited something vital in his brain.

Orihime drew her bottom lip in between her teeth, gently nibbling on the flesh as he continued to stare at her. The delicate blush that painted her cheeks was now spreading beneath the collar of her shirt.

"Umm...Kurosaki-kun?"

Ichigo finally whipped his eyes up to her own, startled and more than a bit embarrassed that she'd been calling his name – regardless if his thoughts remained private.

"H-Hey Inoue."

"Is everything alright?" she asked, a tinge of worry filling her voice.

"Yeah, yeah...everything's okay."

"Umm...then what are you doing here?"

"Can..." His hand absently rubbed the back of his neck while his eyes drifted to the darkened corners of her room. "Can I come in for a minute?"

It took a moment for that cheery smile of hers to show up, but she finally stepped back and nodded him inside. Ichigo immediately noticed the futon laid out in the far corner of her room and the dimmed lights in the apartment. While the more rational part of his mind noted she was getting ready for bed and felt bad about delaying her, the rest of his mind – and body – were more wholly focused on the intimate lighting with a ready bed available.

It was official – he was going straight to hell.

The soft click of the door closing snapped his mind back into action once more and he toed off his shoes before entering her small apartment.

"Umm...sorry it's kinda dark in here. Hang on and I'll cut on the lights."

"No. That's okay. It's alright like this."

Ichigo cursed his words when an uncertain look crossed the beauty's face. He honestly wasn't trying to make her uncomfortable in anyway; he was just trying not to trouble her anymore than he already had. "I'm sorry; you were getting ready for bed weren't you?"

"It's okay!" she assured him quickly with a slight shake of her head. "You're always welcome here Kurosaki-kun. No matter what time it is."

The young man's gut clenched at the soft smile she bestowed upon him. Since his befuddled mind apparently wasn't going to supply him with intelligent words any time soon, he ventured further inside – taking a seat next to her table. The dim light of the room had shadows dancing along the walls and when Inoue walked past to sit just in front of him, her alluring scent washed over his body. Ichigo closed his eyes briefly and breathed deep of that intoxicating smell. He hoped the shiver that wracked his body went unnoticed.

Her eyes met his, questioning at first, but long black lashes soon obscured his view of her stormy gaze as she blushed and looked away. Slender fingers twisted in her lap as if she were nervous. He watched her chest rise as she took a deep breath before looking back up at him once more – still blushing, but more composed than a moment before.

"So, wh...what did you need to see me about Kurosaki-kun?"

He should have taken the time to think about what he needed to say before walking into this room. Now, sitting so close to her, seeing her, smelling her...he didn't know what to do. A sense of nervousness unlike anything he'd ever known was coming over him. And with it...fear.

Ichigo wasn't immune to fear; he dealt with it during battle, and when his friend's or family's lives were in danger, but this fear... this was different. This was an unknown territory for the vizard. He had no previous experience to recall upon, no general knowledge how to go about this, and the fact that she could laugh in his face when he finally gathered up the nerve to say what he wanted was daunting to the war hero. And yet -

His body and heart still reacted to the woman across from him. His soul cried out for her nearness and his hands twitched with the want to touch her. He could hear the soft wisps of her breath in the stillness of the room. White thighs rubbed together anxiously as he continued to sit there – watching her in silence. The sight had another stab of yearning shooting through him.

This had been a bad idea.

What was she thinking? Letting Kurosaki-kun into her apartment when her mind was still reeling from the images she'd concocted barely a half hour ago was maddening! She wasn't mentally prepared to face him yet and here he sat – staring at her with such intensity that she was half convinced he knew what she'd been doing. Another fierce blush spread across her cheeks at the thought.

Orihime chanced a glance at the handsome face before her. Those chocolate eyes had yet to move away from her body and she shifted nervously under such scrutiny. Kurosaki-kun wouldn't say why he wanted to see her, leaving her over active imagination to worry and wonder. If it was something truly bad he would have already mentioned it right? Did that mean it was okay for her to think it was something good? But what could possibly need to be told in person during the middle of the night?

Orihime had several ideas (fantasies), but she stubbornly told her mind to forgo those notions.

"K-Kuro...saki-kun?"

She saw his hand clench atop his thigh, but he still didn't speak. Her lips had gone dry from the tension and she ran her small tongue along her bottom lip.

His eyes followed the movement.

Orihime felt that stab in her lower belly and a heat rushed through her body. This had the healer panicking for a moment. She couldn't have those feelings _now;_ not when the cause of that desire was sitting an arm's length away!

Her skin began to tingle, yearning for the heat of his palm. Orihime blew out a shaky breath, trying so hard to get her mind and body back under control. If only she'd had more time before facing him! The images her mind's eye had given her during the bath were flashing before her once more. Kurosaki-kun's scent was only adding a sense of realism to those dreams – and her pulse was now pounding in her ears. The healer curled her nails into her palms. She had to calm down!

"Inoue."

A whimper – so soft it was almost non-existent – passed her cherry lips. She only hoped Kurosaki-kun didn't hear it.

That deep, rich voice wasn't one spurned from her fantasies. It was all too real and called to her body in a primal way.

"Y-Yes?" she struggled to answer.

He was watching her again; his sharp gaze searching for something within her own. "Did you know I can feel what someone's thinking a little when I clash swords with them?"

Wide eyes blinked in confusion as she stared at him. What was he...is that what he came here to say? He wanted to talk about Zangetsu? "Huh?"

His tongue darted out – licking parched lips; his eyes narrowed – a determined glare filling them. "It's true. That's why I don't spend a lot of time trying to talk shit to my opponents. I'll figure out what they're thinking if I just jump into battle."

"O...okay,"

"I'm not sure if this'll work the same way," he began, a lazy shrug coming from his shoulders, but somehow Orihime didn't think he was quite as confident as he was trying to appear. "but I figure it'll still be better than me fucking things up with the wrong words."

Orihime shook her head, utterly confused at his statement. "I'm sorry. I just don't understand Kurosaki-kun."

Ichigo reached out and wrapped his battle hardened hand around her arm. "This is what I mean." Before she could think to protest, Ichigo pulled her to him and placed a firm kiss to her lips. She was too startled to respond, but the joy of finally tasting her tender lips was enough for him at the moment. He wanted to do more, truly kiss her like he'd dreamed of doing, but he needed to know...had to know if he'd be allowed.

When he pulled away, he felt his heart drop at the near blank look on her face. "I-Inoue?" She just sat there, staring through him.

He cursed himself a hundred ways. Why did he do something so brash to this gentle woman? Why the hell did he think _that_ of all things would work? She was obviously stunned at his audacity and he prepared himself for the slap that was surely coming.

His eyes fell from hers and that alone allowed him to watch as she pinched her thigh sharply. "Inoue?" he questioned again.

"Not sure," she whispered breathlessly.

The confusion was now his own. What was she doing? Why would she hurt her own body? The grip he had around her arm eased and he tried to grab her fingers to prevent her from injuring herself again. Ichigo was unable to grasp those slender digits before she grabbed his shirt and pulled him to her body once more.

The kiss Inoue placed on his lips stunned the vizard to be sure, but he adapted quickly. Her lips moved aggressively against his own – and that only fueled the fire already burning within his gut. Ichigo grasped her porcelain face between his rough hands and tilted her head, giving him better access to slant his lips across hers. Those slender fingers were wound tightly into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him against her body with a strength he didn't know she possessed. Yet he wasn't concerned with anything else at the moment save for memorizing the exquisite taste that was all her own.

It was only out of necessity for oxygen that he finally released her captive lips. His harsh breathing matched her own and the couple sat together – hands still entangled on each others bodies – trying to calm their racing hearts.

"I gonna guess that meant it was okay," Ichigo finally whispered against her bruised lips, his own curving as a smile began to take root on his handsome face.

Orihime watched him for a moment – eyes still glazed over in passion – before she found the breath to answer. "Then it wasn't a dream."

He chuckled. "If it was, I'm having the same one."

"Oh no," she exclaimed, that usual perkiness that seemed to belong to her alone rearing it's head. "I hope the little blue men haven't invaded your mind and implanted my dreams in there! Then what about my dreams? Wait, maybe we're sharing them then it'l..."

Rather than try to get her to understand his meaning, Ichigo simply acted on those thoughts of his once more. The rest of her statement was muffled against his mouth, but he found Inoue to be fast at adapting as well. Her tongue soon came to push against his own, matching his rhythm as they stoked that fire together.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, gripping the sinewy muscles there as they rose to their knees and pressed their bodies together. At first, Ichigo had been worried his enthusiasm would overwhelm the gentle young woman.

He knew now those worries were nothing more than time wasted.

Just as she gave 100% in everything else she did, Inoue was not a passive woman in his arms. Her fingers raked through his hair, nails scored his shoulders, lips trailed along his jaw...her moans of pleasure were nearly his undoing.

When Ichigo found himself gripping her plump ass and pushing her hips into his own, he knew he was lost.

"Inoue," he breathed against her neck, his tongue pausing only for the words before lavishing her sweet skin once more. "If you don't tell me to stop now, I don't think I can."

She moaned as his teeth closed around her ear lobe, but a giggle soon slipped past her lips. He felt her delicate hands pulling at him and he allowed her to bring his face back to her own. "Kurosaki-kun," she placed a tender kiss to his lips that stunned him for a moment. The look she wore was one of bliss. "Kurosaki-kun doesn't know this, but I've wanted and waited for this for so long."

"Huh?"

Fingers weaved through his orange locks before she kissed him once more, smiling against his lips. "I love you Kurosaki-kun."

He ravished her lips, taking everything she offered as the dam to his restraint burst. Ichigo crushed her body against his own and stood, his lips still claiming her. The vizard crossed her room in just a few steps as her legs dangled against his, before he felt the soft corner of her futon. Inoue offered him no resistance as he laid her on the plush bedding, his larger body coming to rest atop hers.

Though only a few rays of the weak light pierced the thick shadows surrounding them, it was enough that he could see her stormy eyes staring back into his own.

Orihime could have wept at the serene smile that filled Kurosaki-kun's face. His fingers slid down her cheek so tenderly, his eyes were filled with so much softness towards her...

Yet even still, that fire in her body had not been extinguished. Kurosaki-kun's weight pressing her into the mattress was the most delicious sensation – one that had a throb pulsating in her lower abdomen.

He kissed her – tenderly, thoroughly...the crescendo of their passion growing with every touch. Calloused fingers trailed the length of her body, caressing the warm skin and leaving fire in his wake. Orihime was restless against him and grew weary of feeling the cotton of his shirt. With impatient fingers, she gripped all she could reach and tugged it with gusto – so much so that it pulled him away from her. His startled expression calmed her enough that she realized what she'd done. Soon, the bright red hue of her embarrassment covered her face.

"I...I'm so sorry," she stammered, fingers trying to cover her face. "I got too caught up in everything and acted too forward. This is all that daydream's fault. What was I thinking? Kurosaki-kun's gonna hate me."

Ichigo gripped her wrists, pulling her hands away from her face, and kissed the very breath out of her once more. He pulled back, satisfied to see the haze filling her eyes again, and sat up – straddling her waist. In one swift movement, Ichigo pulled the shirt from his body and tossed it aside. A satisfied grin covered his face as he watched a blush erupt on her cheeks. He gripped her wrist and planted a hand beside her head, levering himself as he leaned close to her.

"Don't apologize." Though her blush didn't recede, she met his piercing chocolate eyes with her own. He placed the hand he was holding against his chest, holding her warm palm against his skin. "I don't want you to hold back anything with me."

Orihime was distracted for a moment. The feeling of this hot skin, the muscles jumping under her palm. She could feel his heartbeat through her fingertips – a sense of giddiness filled her when she realized it matched her own frantic pace.

"R...really?"

His lopsided smirk had a stab of desire shooting through her. "Really."

He released her hand, pleased that she held it in place. Ichigo returned to her lips, feasting from the sweet flesh while her fingertips began tracing feather-light patterns across his body. Ichigo spread kisses along her jaw while she mapped out the hard planes of his abdomen. Blunt nails drug up the tight cords of his back and he growled against her ivory flesh in pleasure.

Orihime had a feeling she should be embarrassed at the wanton sounds coming from her mouth, but the pleasure she felt at his hands caressing the bare skin of her torso overruled all thoughts. Though she'd been hesitant at removing his shirt, when the vizard made to slip hers up, Orihime was more than accommodating to her love. Without thought for modesty, the busty healer allowed him to strip her top bare and pulled him to her once more, taking of his lips as he grasped the full bounty of her breast.

She whined at the loss of his kiss, but his tongue raking across her nipple had her gasping out in wild pleasure. Her restless legs moved against his own, hands gripped his vibrant hair, and she whimpered at the feelings coursing through her.

In a lust induced haze, Orihime reached for that thick part of him that was pressing into her thigh. Again, a barrier – in the form of his jeans – stood between them. She was too impatient to attempt to unbutton them in the position she was and continued to palm the hard outline of his engorged member through the denim. Kurosaki-kun's reaction was immediate and though she would probably bruise from his strong grip, it only served to heat her body even more. His hips thrust against her hand, a needy groan tearing from his lips.

The rest of their clothes were shed. There were no longer any barriers standing between the two sweat slicked bodies gliding against each other. The apartment was filled with the erotic moans of the couple.

The only words shared were broken pleas and whispers of praise. Instinct and dreams guided the pair as they joined their bodies for the first time.

Orihime bit deeply into her lovers shoulder as the foreign sensation of being filled and the brief moment of pain washed over her. Though he was still reeling from the new found ecstasy he found in her tight passage, Ichigo held himself still and kissed her deeply. When the first experimental roll of her hips against his own produced that exquisite sound to fall from her lips, he withdrew ever so slowly and thrust forward once more.

The pair was lost to the pleasure washing over them.

Though awkward at first, they soon moved together – muscles quivering as they sought that end.

Her thighs gripped his narrow hips.

His fingers dug into the tender flesh of her breast.

Her mouth sought his, fingers curling around the corded muscles in his neck.

He lifted her hips, angling the woman below him and reveling in the satisfying sound of their flesh pounding together.

She nearly screamed as he found the hidden pearl between her folds – stroking it as he increased his pace.

She came apart in his arms, the rolling waves of ecstasy racking her body so great that her vision blackened for a moment. Ichigo's own groan came a moment later, muffled against her neck.

It was sometime later, when the sweat had long since cooled from their bodies, that Ichigo turned to the beauty in his arms, kissing her tenderly as a smile took root on his face.

"So what was that about a daydream you had?"

She gasped against his lips – shock and embarrassment turning her cheeks a rosy hue. Ichigo held tight to her waist, preventing her from turning away and laughing as she tried to stammer out a reply. He kissed her in apology, meaning to speak the words out loud as well, but it seemed their appetite for each other had yet to be sated.

Under the shadows dancing on the wall, the lovers embraced each other once more.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Old Enough to Know Better** _

**Rating : M**

**Ichigo/Orihime**

**Welllllll, long time no see once again!**

**Yeah, still on those other fics of mine then lo and behold, this little gem popped into my head out of nowhere demanding to be written!**

**What started out as a short little idea in my head took a turn on the longer side (as we all know I'm apt to do).**

**Hope you enjoy this first part here and _hopefully_ I can get the other one out before too terribly long! (Hey, it's not my fault! CoTA said all the lemons must be 20 pages now right?) **

**;)**

* * *

"Mou...it's _hot_!"

"Yeah, yeah...we'll be inside soon," Ichigo replied - failing at keeping the exasperation from his voice. The sheer innocence and kindness of the healer always seemed to keep him from getting annoyed with her, but for once, his patience was reaching it's limit.

She giggled against his ear before leaning backwards, making him tighten his grips on her thighs. "Then giddy-up Kurosaki-kun!" Her hand flickered behind his head - mimicking a whip - and she laughed at her own actions. Had he not been worried about dropping his cargo, he would have rushed forward and kicked the irritating man now laughing his ass off in front of him.

"That's right Ichi~go," his father called back with a teasing lit to his voice. "You've got to hurry home with Orihime-chan."

"Fucking bastard," he grumbled under his breath.

They'd done it once more; defied the odds and prevented a crazed psycho from trying to destroy all that they held dear. Of course he was exhausted, but when everyone stepped from the senkaimon into Urahara-san's basement, the shop keeper produced several bottles of expensive sake from seemingly no-where. The promise of a celebratory drink wiped away the fatigue plaguing the group and everyone took a seat in his shop, gladly downing the smooth drink. Not that he - or his friends - joined in the drinking, but the food Tessai-san whipped up was good enough to stick around for.

Besides, how was he supposed to just up and leave when his old man was sitting there happily drinking with Rangiku-san and Toshiro? Ichigo wasn't really prying into that period of his father's life that he knew so little about, but if they were gonna just chat about the old days he wasn't above listening to their conversation. Of course, hearing the people he counted as his friends talking so friendly with their _old friend and captain_ made him feel a little weird.

He'd get over it...eventually.

Clumsy fingers threaded through his hair, the nails scraping against his scalp.

"Hmm...Kurosaki-kun's hair is so much softer than I thought."

Just great, there was no way for him to hide the blush that erupted on his cheeks before his old man whipped that big head of his around to stare at him - and bust out laughing once more.

It was that damn conversation between his father and his old subordinates that had him paying little attention to what was going on. That led to this damn predicament he found himself in.

A room full of tired, but happy, people...

A seemingly endless flow of sake...

And Matsumoto Rangiku...

He should have fucking known better.

At some point during the evening, Rangiku had started slipping alcohol into the drinks she was passing out to his friends. Ichigo had managed to avoid her little 'prank' by sticking to just drinking water - he'd still felt somewhat dehydrated after all the fighting. Ishida, Chado, and Inoue unfortunately didn't do the same.

Ishida - the prude he was - left the gathering first. Something about getting away from all the shinigami in the room. While there may have been a touch of truth to that statement, he was sure the bastard was just too proud to admit he was exhausted - as he'd stumbled a bit leaving.

By the time Ichigo realized what was going on - thanks to some loud laughter and uncharacteristic giggling from the woman on his back - things were far too gone. After he got done screaming at Rangiku, _they were all still minors for fuck's sake_ , he tried to assess the damage she'd done. A text to Ishida confirmed he was indeed home, and only a touch more of a prick then normal. Inoue was dancing about as if she had not a care in the world, and Chado was not simply lounging against the wall in silence as he normally did. The gentle giant was effectively passed out and no amount of yelling or shaking was waking him from his slumber.

_Oh they're fine Ichigo,_ his father insisted.

_Just let them stay and sleep it off,_ Yoruichi said.

_I'll happily look after them Kurosaki-san,_ Urahara-san said from behind his fan.

Chado was fine, the big lug could always look out for himself, but Inoue?

Grimmjow sat in the corner, sipping sake from his cup. The cold smirk on his face and heat in his glare pissing off the vizard with every second that passed. He didn't care what the others said, he wasn't trusting the Arrancar _that_ far. He wouldn't. Every time he looked his way he could still see his big hands wrapped around Inoue's throat. He could remember his veiled threats about her well being while she was held captive with Aizen.

And they thought he was just gonna leave her there?

With Urahara-san and his perverted ass to, supposedly, look after her?

Ichigo had grabbed her arm and gently tugged her from the room with every intention of making sure she got home safely in her inebriated state. That was, until she almost fell three times just trying to put her shoes on. The fourth time she did fall and simply stayed there on the ground, all smiles and laughs with her flushed cheeks and messy hair. Ichigo had caught the curious eye and amused smirk of his father before picking her up, tossing her over his shoulder, and walking out the door.

"Ichigo!" The old man yelled as he hurried after him. "That is not the way you carry a lady!"

"Ish okay Kurosaki-san," she slurred slightly, trying to push her long auburn hair from her face to see him. "It's no... _hic_...it's not the first time he's done it."

Ichigo found himself unable to proceed as Isshin had stood before him, arms crossed and glaring. "Ichigo," he warned. Not wanting to deal with his mood swings, Ichigo quickly dropped Inoue to her feet before swinging her up behind him, her knees now gripping his hips.

"Better?" he asked, sarcasm lacing the word.

"Much," Isshin said, that grin fully returned to his face.

He trudged past his annoying father, letting him fall in step beside him, as he made his way home.

"Hmm? I thought you were taking her to her apartment?"

Ichigo glared at his father, hating the curiosity in his voice. "She's clumsy enough sometimes; she'll probably only hurt herself if I left her alone."

Isshin shook his head in understanding, mock seriousness on his face. "True; it would probably be for the best if she stayed with us tonight."

Ichigo grit his teeth while he inwardly cursed all the damn _adults_ he'd been stuck with that night. Everyone of them caused him nothing but trouble.

Now, as he slowly let Inoue slide to her feet and prop against the wall, he was coming to a loss as to what to do. Her eyes were glazed, cheeks still pink from the liquor, and that warm smile gracing her face. One of her hands still gripped the sleeve of his jacket as she held her self upright, gazing up at him in a way that seemed foreign, yet somehow familiar.

"Kurosaki-kun," she whispered, lips slowly forming the word as if she could taste it.

"Why don't you go get her some water Ichigo," his dad interrupted, putting an arm around the woman's shoulders and accepting her weight. "I'll take her in the living room." Ichigo walked away, but not before turning to catch a glimpse of his old man taking off the girl's shoes. The vizard pinked a bit, realizing he probably should have done that instead of trying to decipher that smile of hers.

When he made his way back to the living room, he found Inoue sitting next to his father on the couch - both of them laughing as Inoue propped herself on his shoulders, her feet tucked under her.

The sight didn't sit well with him.

"Here you go Inoue."

"Thank you Kurosaki-kun," she smiled and accepted the glass. He made sure she wouldn't drop it before stepping back, intending to sit in the chair across from them, but the young woman wouldn't allow it. Catching him off guard, she grabbed hold of his hand and tugged his body towards her. He managed to turn slightly so he would fall into the couch instead of on the young woman.

"Inoue..."

"What?" she replied, eyes alive with innocence. With a dexterity she shouldn't possess at the moment, she turned herself on the cushion and laid her legs across his lap, stopping him from getting up.

It was enough to have that redness cover his cheeks once more. "Ino..."

" _Ahhh~_ " Orihime stretched her arms above her head, rolling her head back and sighing. As the water started to spill, Isshin took the glass from her with a smile, doing nothing but watching as she allowed her body to fall back across his lap - trapping the Kurosaki men on the couch. "I feel so much better now!"

Despite the flush on his face, Ichigo managed to glare at his father. The man simply laughed at her statement and brushed the long locks from her face.

"I have to say I'm surprised Orihime-chan."

"Hmm? Why's that Kurosaki-san?" she asked, rolling her head on his thigh until she could look up into his warm, brown eyes.

"You must hold your liquor quite well." Isshin continued to run his fingers through her long hair, gently stroking her head.

Ichigo snorted, trying to ignore the shapely bare legs thrown over his. "You say that with her acting like this?"

"My boy, you didn't see how many glasses she drank. And look at the girl! She's not passed out, not puking everywhere, still able to talk...fairly coherently. She's just...relaxed," he ended with a chuckle.

Again, Ichigo felt the overwhelming need to beat the smug man in the face. "If you knew what Rangiku-san was doing why didn't you stop her!"

A bare foot tapped his thigh a couple of times before her small toes curled into the denim covering them. "It's alright Kurosaki-kun."

He stared at the delicate, red painted digits for a moment as if he'd never seen such a thing before. Ichigo finally shook his head, freeing himself from the sight. "It's not alright Inoue."

"Eh? Why not?" she pouted, tilting her head as she watched him. "Everyone's been so stressed. Why couldn't we all relax tonight?"

"Inoue," he began with a deep sigh; he almost felt as if he were talking to a child. "She got you drunk with out your knowledge or permission; not to mention you're underage. She shouldn't have done that."

"It's fine, it's fine," she said dismissively, arching her back off the couch - stretching much like a cat - before rolling her body back in place. Her legs stretched out further and she wiggled her toes as she made herself comfortable once more. The sight held both Kurosaki's attention. "I probably would've just went home and cried out my frustrations before I felt better. This way I don't have to." She peeked at him over her bountiful chest. "You worried me so much Kurosaki-kun."

Isshin continued to smirk at the discomfort of his only son. "It's not nice to worry a woman Ichigo."

Orihime popped up, propping herself on one elbow. "That's right Ichigo," she mocked Isshin's tone. "It's not nice to worry a woman." She found her own statement so funny she collapsed back onto Isshin's lap and dissolved into giggles.

When his father joined in the laughter, Ichigo blew out a frustrated breath, crossing his arms and looking away from the both of them.

"So handsome."

That whispered admission had him quickly looking back only to set his teeth to grinding. Inoue's hand stretched out, fingers lightly tracing his father's whiskered jaw - to which the old man only smiled.

"Why thank you Orihime-chan."

Her hand withdrew,moving to join the other one resting against her flat stomach, but she kept smiling up at the shinigami. "So much like Kurosaki-kun."

Ichigo was getting tired of feeling the heat rush to his face.

"Don't you mean Ichigo looks like me?"

Orihime seemed to honestly think about the question before smiling once more. "I guess you're right," she admitted with a laugh. "Except Kurosaki-kun has a funny frown he likes to wear."

"Oi! My face is not funny!" Ichigo protested. _Fuck, why I am even listening to this stupid conversation._

"Nope," his father shook his head. "He stole that from me too."

_It's my face ya bastard._

"Huh? Kurosaki-san has a funny frown too?" Orihime looked up, wide eyed and enthralled at the prospect.

"Yup. You wanna see?" She shook her head vigorously and continued to stare, waiting anxiously for this new discovery. Even Ichigo was surprised when his father dropped that annoying, overly cheerful personality of his and showed a face he rarely showed even his children to the woman laid across his lap. Ichigo looked on as she studied him closely...before sighing and getting comfortable once more.

"Nope, it's not like Kurosaki-kun's."

"What do you mean Orihime-chan?"

"When Kurosaki-kun frowns, his eyebrows draw down further like this," her finger met the frown she tried to produce and pointed to the crease between her eyes. "And his eyes close a little more, and his lips actually get a little thinner, and his..."

His father's eyes slid his way. The old bastard smirked at him while Orihime cataloged every nuance of his 'funny scowl' to his father. Even as she spoke about the damn thing, it materialized while he glared back at his old man. Ichigo did his best to ignore his continuing embarrassment at his father's delight of the situation.

"Dammit," he cursed beneath his breath, though not soft enough that the young woman speaking didn't hear.

"Eh?" Orihime questioned between her laughter. "What's wrong Kurosaki-kun?"

He turned away, hoping that at least his ears weren't red and he could try to save face here. Though, considering how much she seemed to _observe_ about him, he wasn't keeping a great deal of faith in that. He hoped the alcohol still messing with her would help the process.

"Nothing my dear," his father answered and Ichigo could practically feel the humor in his voice. "It's just that my son is a bit of a prude, so having a beautiful woman drape her bare legs across his lap is probably making him uncomfortable."

"Stop looking at her legs you fucking pervert," Ichigo grumbled past clenched teeth.

"Kurosaki-kun isn't a prude. He's a gentleman," she mumbled, a pout forming to accompany the decisive nod of her head. "He wouldn't do anything disrespectful to a woman. Kurosaki-kun is a good man, so don't say that again," she finished with - what they thought was supposed to be - a stern glare.

"Yes ma'am," Isshin replied. Satisfied, Orihime closed her eyes and leaned back once more, giving his old man the opportunity to turn back to him with a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

_God, this is never going to end is it?_

With a gasp, Orihime sat up, her legs still draped over Ichigo's as her worried eyes locked with his own. "Am I making Kurosaki-kun uncomfortable?" the rest of Isshin's sentence just now permeating her alcohol befuddled mind.

_Shit._

He didn't know how to answer her. It wasn't that he was exactly uncomfortable, maybe a bit nervous - not that he was admitting that shit to anybody - with her ivory legs pressing against his own. Those damn shorts did nothing but make her long legs stretch even further for the eye. Ichigo didn't know where to look to make it seem he wasn't gawking at her.

And twice now he'd almost rested his hand on those shapely pillars.

His saw his father behind her, silently laughing at his plight. He swore he was kicking his ass in the morning.

"Oh! I know."

Again, with a speed she shouldn't possess at the moment, she twisted herself on the couch - without hurting herself or either of them surprisingly - and reversed her position. Now, her legs lay in his fathers lap while her head rested on his thighs. Ichigo was too stunned to even protest the movement. She smiled up at him, proud of her genius idea, and brushed the hair away from her eyes.

"Is this better?"

Pouty lips, half-lidded stormy eyes glancing up from beneath him, her cleavage now in plain sight every time he looked down...

"It...it's fine," he managed to say, not wanting to disappoint the hopeful look she wore, though his sanity was now hanging by a thread. The first blessing he had all night came shortly thereafter when she hid a yawn behind one small hand.

The chuckle from his right did nothing to ease his fraying nerves. "Shut the fuck up will ya?" he shot to his father in low tones.

"What?" he tried to ask in innocence, but Ichigo wasn't buying it. "How can you be so hostile with such a beautiful woman in your lap?"

_Oh if only looks could kill..._ "You know damn good and well Inoue doesn't act like this! If Rangiku-san hadn't gotten her drunk..."

"Then I wouldn't have gotten to see her acting so cute and I wouldn't have any new material to tease you with my boy. All in all I'd say it worked out quite well."

"Sonofa..."

"And we got to hear all kinds of new information from her!" Isshin continued, ignoring his son's complaints. "She seems rather...fond of watching you doesn't she?" That statement shut his son up rather quickly and returned that damning blush to his face. "And so defensive of your character! My my Ichigo, I didn't know you had it in ya."

"I haven't done a damn thing, so shut up!"

"Well," Isshin began, lifting Orihime's legs gently and sliding from beneath them. "That is a pity to hear." He began to walk out of the room before Ichigo called out to him.

"Wait! What am I supposed to do about Inoue?"

Isshin paused, looking over his shoulder at his son. "You could sit there all night and be a good pillow for her." The glare sent his way was one he was unfortunately used to. With a roll of his eyes and a sigh for his son, he waved a dismissive hand and continued on to his own bedroom. "Your sisters are at a friend's house. Just take her to their room."

He was glad, at least, to be rid of his father's presence, but he still had his beautiful friend now passed out on his lap. Ichigo sat there for a moment longer, watching her peaceful countenance in sleep. She'd done quite a bit to embarrass him since he pulled her from Urahara-san's shop, but he knew it wasn't intentional. More than anything, it made him angry at himself.

Why should he be getting so embarrassed over a few words, compliments really, from his friend? Ichigo knew the deep seated answer to that question, but it wasn't something he wanted to explore at the moment.

Taking care not to wake her, he slid out from under her head before standing and slipping his arms under her shoulders and knees to carry her to the twin's room. She stirred a bit, but immediately snuggled closer to his warmth as he climbed the stairs. It was a bit difficult to toe open the door and make his way around their furniture, but he was finally able to get next to the bed. Only when he laid her down and was about to move his arms away did the healer stir from her drunken slumber.

"Kuro...saki-kun?" Her eyes parted slightly and, when she saw his face in the moonlight filtering through the window, a gentle smile pulled her lips up. His arm was still trapped under her shoulder so, with their close proximity, it was rather easy for her to wrap her arms around his neck – pulling him close.

To say he was shocked to find her lips suddenly upon his would be an understatement. The vizard found himself unable to do anything other than lean over her in shock while her mouth captured his own. Her sweet smell, tinged with the sake of earlier, invaded his nose – reminding him that she wasn't really aware of what she was doing. Ichigo grabbed her shoulder, pulling back from her lips.

"Inoue thi..."

She lifted herself higher, gripping onto his neck and once more taking possession of his lips. Ichigo could make no movement to protest before her tongue found its way into his own mouth, almost shyly stroking his own.

God he knew he shouldn't be letting this happen, but the pleasure leaking into his body was putting up a strong argument to let this continue. When she moaned against him, he figured just a little bit more couldn't hurt...right?

Ichigo leaned her back against the bed, keeping his body from crushing her by propping his hand by her head. Inoue's fingers ran through his hair, nails scraping against the scalp sending shivers along his spine. Ichigo couldn't continue to allow her to lead them in this kiss. He pressed her against the pillow, letting his chest slide against hers, and took control of their actions. Orihime readily gave into his lead, opening her mouth wider as he demanded entrance.

His free hand gripped her waist, squeezing the tender flesh there before sliding up her back. Though he wasn't trying to push her clothes out of the way, he found his calloused hand against the silky skin of her back. The subtle dips and grooves of her spine, the space between her shoulders, the gentle curve of her waist leading to her hips, Ichigo was enthralled by it all.

He panted against her lips, sucking in oxygen as if he'd been in battle for hours as he danced his fingers along her stomach. "Kuro...Kurosaki-kun," Inoue's breathing was in much the same state as his own.

Their lips met once more and they continued to devour one another, passionately embracing as if they'd been apart for years. The whimper that came from the women beneath him sent a jolt through his body, like a primitive call that awakened something in his blood.

_God she just tastes so good._

Even with the tinge of alcohol in...

Ichigo abruptly pulled back, holding himself over her and suddenly felt guilt like never before slam into him as he took in her passion glazed eyes and kiss swollen lips.

"Kurosaki-kun?"

What the fuck was he thinking?

He had his drunken friend, in his sister's room, with his father sleeping downstairs, and he was what? Taking advantage of that by practically ravishing her?

What the hell had gotten into him?

"What is it?" Her warm hand cupped his cheek, fingers sliding into his hair, as her breathless voice beckoned him.

Ichigo shot up from the bed, turning around quickly and rubbing his hands along his face.

"Kurosaki-kun?"

"I'm sorry Inoue." It was all he could manage to say. What else could he do? How did he repair the damage he'd done?

"Sorry? For what?"

He glanced over his shoulder at her, feeling too shamed to fully face her at the moment. She was propped up on her elbows, eyes searching the darkness for his face. "You're still drunk Inoue, you should get some sleep." With a heavy heart, Ichigo trudged towards the door, wanting nothing more than to shut himself away and reflect on his horrible actions.

"Are you sorry for...kissing me?"

"I shouldn't have don..," Ichigo stopped himself, opting instead to let out the heavy feelings in his heart through a bone weary sigh. "We'll talk more tomorrow."

"I don't even get a say in this?"

It wasn't so much the words she used as it was the incredulousness they held that made him stop and turn. She sat fully up in the bed now, arms crossed, and an angry tilt to her lips.

"Inoue you're still..."

"If you finish that sentence, I swear I'm going to throw something."

"Wha...," he couldn't even finish speaking before she lit into him once more.

"Stop using the same excuse would ya? I don't wanna hear them. If you didn't want to kiss me you could have just walked out earlier! Did you do that? No. Now here you are after the fact apologizing for something I've waited years to have happen!"

Ichigo couldn't have cleared the shock from his face should someone have demanded it from him. "Inoue what are you..."

"Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? No, of course you don't. Why should you know how I fell? Here you go taking something that meant so damn much to me and turning it into something else you feel responsible for. God, I am so done with that!" The young woman threw herself back on the bed, turning away from him and pulling the covers up to her shoulders. "I'm done with this entire conversation. I'll never be as good as Kuchiki-san, it doesn't matter what I do. Great, now I have to apologize to her and that is your fault so feel free to take responsibility for that as well."

"Inoue would you just..."

"You can leave now Kurosaki-kun," she said, not bothering to face him, but the finality in her tone was obvious. "I think you've done enough for one night."

It was with shell shocked eyes that his body somehow found the ability to step out and close the door behind him. He didn't know how long it was that he stood there, staring blankly at the door cutting off his access from the healer, but what little moon light filtered in through the hallway window was gone before he was able to turn away.

He wasn't sure what the hell just happened, but he swore to every deity listening that the next person who gave Inoue Orihime alcohol would personally answer to him.

Yet even through all that happened, one thing stuck out in his befuddled mind.

_She's waited for years, huh?_

* * *

The sun had yet to peek over the horizon. Only a glimpse of the dull orange hues filtered in through the window, leaving the room bathed in the soft cloak of the retreating night. That only confused Orihime more, for she wasn't sure what woke her. When her mind clearly adjusted to consciousness, she wished she'd been left to her slumber.

A mild headache was the only malady bothering her after her unintended indulgence, but the memories she had sent her into a guilty spiral that threatened to make her nauseous.

Just what in all that was holy got into her last night?

Shaky hands covered her face as the horror that was her behavior came rushing back to her. Draping herself shamelessly across not only Kurosaki-kun, but his father as well, saying those brazen things while she reclined across their bodies, kissing Kuro...

With her hands still covering her open mouth, Orihime's eyes danced about the room, as if to see any physical remnants proving that last memory had occurred. Nothing was left behind except the searing memory of his hands and lips scorching themselves into her body. Trembling fingers touched the bedsheets as she recalled it all.

It was here, right here where he'd...

Orihime jumped from the bed as if it'd burned her. She had to brace herself against the nightstand as her legs began to shake in fear and shame.

She'd chastised him right after that blissful interlude, hadn't she? Some of the words were jumbled together, but she remembered ordering him from her sight.

_Oh God, what have I done? What have I done?_

Her mind whirled with the thoughtless words and actions she'd allowed herself to display the night before.

Why? Why had she continued to consume the drinks Rangiku-san had given her after she began to feel funny? She was so sure the busty shinigami didn't mean any harm in what she'd done. It was simply a time of good fun for everyone who'd suffered so greatly fighting once more.

But this night had done irreparable damage to the friendship she shared with Kurosaki-kun.

Orihime fought back tears as she imagined the disgusted face he would make when he saw her...if he would even face her after her wanton behavior.

That just wasn't acceptable for her.

She loved him so much, but more than anything she didn't want to be hated by him. Orihime wanted to be able to continue helping him, supporting him, she wanted to stay beside him no matter the position she occupied. If he wouldn't face her anymore...

She shook her head violently. That just couldn't happen. She would have to find a way to make this better.

The self-depreciating groan that tore from her throat was thankfully muffled against her hands. **This** is exactly why her onii-chan had always told her to stay away from alcohol! It turned you into a different person. _He wasn't always like that,_ was all he used to say about their father. Now she knew for sure and she planned to prostrate herself in front of his picture to beg for forgiveness as soon as she got home.

Orihime eased the bedroom door open; trying so hard to make not a single sound as she exited the house. The best thing she could do would be to go home and reflect on her actions. Only then could she calm down enough to figure out a way to make Kurosaki-kun forgive her.

She left the door open, too scared to dare close it and wake up anyone in the house. Slowing her breathing and begging her heart not to beat so loudly, she began making her way towards the staircase. When she passed by Kurosaki-kun's door, she held her breath for her fear of waking him was so great. With slow, measured steps and her eyes trained on the wooden barrier, she eased her way down the darkened corridor. It took far longer than necessary, but she didn't care. Facing him right now was something she dared not even contemplate.

When she felt she'd gone far enough, the young woman turned back around, zoning in on the ever approaching staircase. She was simply thankful she'd not tripped or ran into anything – as even she was loathe to admit she was prone to do.

With her first step down, Orihime felt her heart breathe a small sigh of relief. No sounds had come from the other occupants of the home. She was almost there. Now, she simply had to get to the front door and make her way home as fast as she...

"Where do you think you're going?"

Her heart froze in her chest as a weighted ball of lead sunk into the pits of her stomach. That deep, melodic voice – though normally a sense of great pleasure to her – was the one she didn't want to hear the most at that moment. Orihime turned her head as little as possible, peeking through the curtain of her auburn hair at the figure lounging in his doorway. The light in the hallway may have been dim, but she didn't need anything more to catch the deep scowl on his face.

"I..." Her voice failed her. Even her lips refused to move any further as he pushed off the frame and crossed the distance between them in only a few steps. That large, strong hand of his clamped around her upper arm as he gazed at her with a fire in his eyes.

"Don't think you're getting away so easily."

There was little she could do in the way of protest as Ichigo pulled her gently, but firmly, to his room – closing the door sharply behind him.

* * *

A pair of curious, mischievous brown eyes peeked around the corner at the barren hallway. He made his way to that closed door, eying it contemplatively. There were no obvious sounds coming from behind the obstruction, which only peaked his curiosity more.

Still, with a nervous chuckle, and a thought for his health, Isshin descended the stairs. The ex-captain threw on his coat before easing his way out of the house.

"I think I'll just take a walk before breakfast this morning."


	8. Chapter 8

 

Though he didn't slam the door behind them, Orihime still heard the soft click of the lock ring out as a resounding clang - a single sound that now held her separate from the freedom she so desperately sought. 

 

Kurosaki-kun didn't bother to turn on the lights and when he pressed her against the now sealed door, blocking her body in with his own, the meager illumination in the predawn hours afforded her nothing. She could barely make out the deep scowl covering his handsome face from the shadows. Yet, where her eyes were of little use, her other senses were more than compensating. She could easily feel the heat rolling off his body as it hovered just inches from her own. The spicy scent of his, that she could distinguish anywhere, was nearly overpowering, making the busty young woman light headed. The sound of his breathing was steady as he peered down at her, watching her every movement, her every expression. 

 

Moments ticked away and he'd said or done nothing else to explain why he wasn't allowing her to leave. Orihime fidgeted nervously under his watchful eyes, fear creeping up her spine as every second he was silent was one more she was left anticipating his dismissal of her from his life. 

 

What else could he possibly do after her horrible actions only hours before? Orihime frantically searched her mind for ways to delay his decision. This was why she wanted to get home so quickly! If she simply had time to think, she was sure she could come up with an acceptable solution - and an appropriate apology - that would convince him not to hate her. 

 

For now, she had no other choice than to hurry and apologize. Kurosaki-kun was still silently observing her, but she wasn't sure how long it would last. It would be best for her to make the first move so he would see how sincere she was. Taking a deep breath, Orihime clenched her fists and fought away the nervousness. 

 

"Kuro...."

 

"So,"

 

She yelped, startled when he interrupted her forcefully. She raised her head when he spoke and was now able to make out the features of his handsome face in the darkened room. Those intense, chocolate eyes were there - waiting for her to gather the courage to meet them. His frown had lessened, but only slightly. 

 

"I said we would talk more tomorrow," he began, leaning over her shorter frame. "It's tomorrow." 

 

The healer had to work hard to hold back the frightened squeak ready to erupt from her throat. She had no fear of Kurosaki-kun ever harming her, but the intensity with which he gazed at her was nothing short of the hard determination he wore in battle. It was sheer instincts that had her shying away from his words. 

 

"Why don't we pick up the conversation where we left off. That would be somewhere right before you kicked me out of the room." 

 

She could no longer meet his eyes and turned her head away, cheeks dusting pink in embarrassment and shame. Unfortunately, Kurosaki-kun was having none of that. His fingers grasped her chin gently, but firmly, turning her back to meet his eyes. "I've spent a sleepless night thinking about what happened. I'm not going to let you shy away from this, Inoue." 

 

"I-I....." she hesitated, half in fright and half enraptured by the lack of distance between them. "I-I'm not," she managed to whisper. 

 

Ichigo simply cocked an eyebrow at the healer. "You're not? Then why are you turning away from me?" A part of Ichigo hated himself for doing this - pushing Inoue, almost bullying her into answering his questions, but he had reached a breaking point. After finally returning to his room after what seemed hours of staring at the door separating him from the healer, he could do nothing more than re-live every moment of their encounter. 

 

Every word spoken, every touch shared, every broken sigh that fell from her lips. 

 

A man could be expected to handle only so much. 

 

The unspoken sentences that stood between them were driving him to distraction. Like a child filled with an overabundance of curiosity, Ichigo found himself unable to simply leave them be. A newly stirred desire and a night of restlessness had his patience worn thin. Perhaps that was why the sight of Inoue's pink cheeks, watery eyes, and busty frame trembling before him was exciting his senses even further.

 

"Inoue." He called her name once more, urging the young woman to respond. A few errant tears dared to stream down her pale cheeks as she hesitantly met his gaze. 

 

"I....I don't w-want you t-to hate me," she admitted, her breath catching as she fought to control her emotions. 

 

The sight of Inoue's tears were normally distressful for the substitute shinigami; however, her streaked face before him was more of a comfort than a call to arms. His calloused fingers gently swiped away the drops clinging to her cheeks. "I was....perturbed, not angry - and certainly not enough to hate you." 

 

"But....but I was so s-shameful. And I said such horrible things to you. A-And I was like.....like that in front of Kurosaki-san too." It seemed once the dam holding back her words broke, there was no stopping the flow. She continue to cry and apologize while Ichigo patiently waited above her, smiling down at her bowed head and absently rubbing one delicate shoulder. 

 

"Don't worry about my old man." The topic of his father had another memory shooting through his brain that had Ichigo's brow twitching in annoyance. "Though, you telling him how good looking you thought he was, is kinda irritating." 

 

For just a moment, her mouth fell open with shock at his words. It was short lived as his recollection jarred her own memory. Blood rushed to her cheeks and slender hands flew to cover her pale face as she gasped in embarrassment. "I...I can't believe I said that! I'll never be able to face Kurosaki-san again!" 

 

Perhaps the only reason she didn't run away was because Ichigo continued to trap her against the door. He hadn't moved, but she seemed to be shrinking away from him as much as she possibly could. The vizard's hand on her shoulder clenched - the only sign he would give that he was growing slightly nervous. Inoue still hid her face from his sight, but that was probably for the best. He wasn't sure if he could get the rest of his words out with her stormy eyes watching him. 

 

"There was something else you accused me of," he began, pausing when her fingers parted and he could see one gray eye peeking up at him. Ichigo took a deep breath and began playing with the strands of hair resting on her shoulder to distract himself. "You accused me of not knowing how you feel." He heard the quick gasp by the young woman, but he continued on. "How am I supposed to know how you feel if you don't say anything, Inoue?" 

 

He seemed to be wholly involved with her silken hair, but Ichigo was simply waiting for a word, waiting on any sign that those actions the night before hadn't simply been fueled by alcohol and the spur of the moment. It was entirely possible that's all it was. Even though her words had obviously painted his father an entirely different portrait, there was still the chance they meant nothing. Ichigo didn't want to make a fool out of himself if that were the case. 

 

Her hands slowly fell away from her face. He could see her eyes glancing at him time and time again, but Ichigo concentrated on his task, giving her whatever time she needed. She began to fidget again and that seemingly permanent blush was spread across her alabaster cheeks. It was when her teeth came to nibble on her bottom lip that Ichigo felt he had evidence enough. 

 

His fingers dropped her hair and grasped her lowered chin. Ichigo tugged on her abused lip, pulling it free and leaving her mouth parted. Her eyes were questioning and the young shinigami felt compelled to answer her. “How do you know I don't have anything to say as well?” 

 

Another gasp past her plump lips, though Ichigo wasn't sure if it was from his words, or from the slow trek his thumb made across the soft surface of her bottom lip. Either way, the sound was pleasing to his ears. 

 

“B.....but....,” she began breathlessly, unable to voice the words caught in her throat. 

 

“What?” he breathed across her skin, dipping his head so that his lips brushed against her ear. “It's not like you gave me a chance to say anything last night.” 

 

Though the room was still cast in shadows, he could see color flaring to life on her pale skin. Inoue tried to turn her face away, but it only exposed more of her slender neck for his perusal. His fingers traced the fine lines of her shoulder as he breathed in the delicious scent that was entirely her own. 

 

“Would.....,” Ichigo heard her whisper. He saw the slender shape of her neck move as she swallowed before taking a breath – trying to gain a glimmer of confidence. He pulled back enough that he could see the shy glance she gave him. “Would Kurosaki-kun still listen to what I have to say? Even after last night?”

 

Though she was rapidly turning pink in embarrassment, the hesitant look in her stormy eyes had a relieved chuckle slipping past his lips. 

 

“Last night....” Ichigo gave an amused huff and brought himself closer to the young woman. Enough words had been spoken and his body was at its limit.  “Last night, you called me a gentleman." His forehead rested against hers, his baritone voice covering her like a warm blanket. Orihime couldn't even nod her head in response; she simply continued to stare back into those deep chocolate eyes trained on her. His large, calloused hand slid to her hip, squeezing the flesh lightly. "I'm not feeling very much like one right now." 

 

_"Hnn,"_ a hollow whine sounded in her throat before she took a shuddering breath. The way he was gazing at her, taking stock of every part of her body, had a slow burn flaring to life in her belly. Her lips parted, what she was going to say was beyond her, but there was no chance to do so as Ichigo sealed his own against her. 

 

Unlike the foggy memories from the night before, this experience was so sharp it carved out its own place in her mind. His lips moving across her own, tasting her, marking her, leaving no doubt in her mind that she was in no dream, but living her own private fantasy. As her fingers fumbled to grasp his shirt, searching for something to help hold her steady under his tender assault, his tongue swept into her mouth, laying claim to that area as well. 

 

Orihime was glad she'd managed to take hold of him as her knees buckled when he began massaging the sensitive areas of her mouth. She felt his arms go fully around her, taking her weight and pressing her body flush against his own. Her mind was a whirl of emotions as he kissed the very breath from her body. 

 

Ichigo pulled away slightly, panting against her lips, but refusing to relinquish the hold he had on her. Inoue's fingers slid up his chest and took a firm grip on his shoulders. He briefly wondered if she could feel the twitching of his muscles everywhere she touched. 

 

“Kuro.......Kuro-saki-kun,” she managed to say in between her own gasps. 

 

He studied her watery eyes for a moment before capturing her lips once more. The moan that tore from her throat only exacerbated his need. Ichigo pressed her against the door with his body, making sure every inch of his hard lines met with her own soft curves. Her fingers were curling into the thick cords of his neck, her blunt nails scraping against his skin and making him shudder under her touch. The soft, abundant flesh of her breasts were crushed against his chest and his fingers itched to grasp hold of them. 

 

Orihime sucked in air greedily when Kurosaki-kun abandoned her lips in favor of trailing his hot mouth down the column of her neck. Even grasping onto his strong shoulders as she was, she was glad to be leaning her weight against his door. Her eyes fluttered as the sensation of his traveling fingers wandering under her shirt washed over her. He glided up the soft plane of her belly before his thumb grazed the bottom of her breast. Orihime couldn't contain her sinful moan of pleasure. She could only thread her fingers through his surprisingly soft hair and give in to the pleasure he afforded her. 

 

A swirling chaos of need was rapidly filling her lower belly, but she knew she wasn't alone in the feeling. Kurosaki-kun gasped against her skin as her hands curled in his hair and suddenly pressed his hips tightly against her own. Even with her face flushed in pleasure, there was no denying the blush that erupted when she felt the hard evidence of his arousal. Innocent as she was, she couldn't help but feel embarrassment. However, that wasn't the overlying emotion filling her. Curiosity, eagerness, and a sense of womanly pride came from knowing she was the cause of his fervor. 

 

The knowledge that he was in _that_ state because of her had a spear of desire coursing through her body. As he pressed against her hips once more, Orihime responded in kind. The friction their bodies caused had a wanton moan tearing from her lips. 

 

Ichigo's restraint snapped with the pleasured sound she made. He pulled back from her delicate neck and lifted her effortlessly against his chest. Ichigo ignored the indrawn breath of surprise from the busty healer as he turned and crossed the room in a few steps. He deposited her on his bed, kneeling above her figure and taking a moment to gaze at her seductive form spread out on his sheets. Through the dim light shining through his window, he could see the wide eyed look she gave him. 

 

“Do you wanna stop?” 

 

Her embarrassment was easy to see, but even as her teeth came out to nibble nervously on her bottom lip, she shook her head in the negative. Trembling hands pushed on the bed, lifting her until she could reach him and press a firm kiss to his lips. 

 

“I don't want to stop,” she whispered shyly into the room. 

 

A happy grin split his face. Ichigo took the initiative once more, pushing her back onto the plush mattress and claiming her mouth. Though, the shy picture she painted only moments before seemed to melt away as her hands tugged anxiously at the shirt covering his body. Ichigo separated himself from her only long enough to divest himself of the nuisance. 

 

Curious fingers wandered, lips melded together, and a flurry of hands tore at the remaining clothing separating the two from one another. 

 

“ _Ahh!”_ Orihime's back arched off the bed, pressing her naked chest further into Ichigo's hot mouth as he flicked her sensitive nipple with the tip of his tongue. The craving her body screamed for had her thighs falling further apart, inviting Ichigo to nestle himself into the cradle of her hips. As he lathered scorching kisses across her chest, the thick member pressing into her thigh called to her curious fingers. 

 

It was his turn to release a strangled groan against her skin. Her fingers encircled his hard shaft, gently tugging at his throbbing cock. “ _Shit_ ,” he hissed, aiding her progress by thrusting against her hand. Fingers gripped the bright fan of auburn hair across his pillows and he held Inoue's head still as he devoured her lips. 

 

Their bodies glided across one another – slick with sweat and burning with unquenchable desire. Slender legs rubbed against his own – anxious for something she could not name. Ichigo pushed his hands between their bodies, searching for the source of her heat. He hummed against the hollow of her throat – awash in male pride at the dripping core his fingers encountered. With deft movements, he began teasing the hardened nub he found amongst her folds. 

 

“ _Ah...Ku-ro.....,”_ Orihime's head thrashed along the pillow, white heat shooting throughout her body with every flick of his fingers. _“I.....I can't....”_

 

His mouth claimed her once more, his tongue mimicking the actions of his fingers. “ _Fuck,_ ” he groaned against her lips, unable to articulate just how fevered his desire was. 

 

With arms twined round his neck, Orihime gave herself wholly to the man rising above her. She muffled her gasp of pain against his shoulder when he first entered her, squeezing her eyes shut and focusing on nothing but his heat. 

 

The sounds that slipped past her lips soon after held no traces of those first painful gasps. Instead, her sinful cries of pleasure echoed off the silent walls. Orihime gripped his powerful back, feeling the play of muscles beneath her fingers while he drove into her body again and again. Ecstasy like she'd never known flooded her body. Her legs quivered, nipples tightened, shoulders lifted off the bed as she clung to his broad body – both scared and thrilled at the new sensations wracking her busty frame. 

 

“ _Inoue,_ ” she could hear him whisper against her ear. He called her name even as he continued to thrust against her, groaning at the sheer bliss filling his body. 

 

Tears leaked from her eyes as she tumbled over that peak, trembling in his arms and clinging to Ichigo as he followed her into that euphoric splendor. 

 

She could do nothing but hold fast to his body as their heartbeats struggled to return to normal. 

 

 

 

Dark eyes glared over the rim of steaming coffee thrust into his hands. Before he could drink from the much needed source of caffeine, a loud yawn split his face. 

 

“Sorry.....again,” Isshin mumbled, sipping from his own hot beverage. 

 

“Had we not been friends for many years, I would have slammed the door in your face earlier.” 

 

“I know, I know.” Isshin waved his hand apologetically, trying – and failing – to send Urahara a grateful smile. 

 

“You know how late we were up last night and you come knocking on my door at this ungodly hour of the morning!” There was no trace of the usually cheerful shopkeeper. His red eyes set atop dark circles and a yawn peppered his speech every few minutes. Isshin felt a slight stab of guilt at waking his friend so early. “I expected to hear of some danger that needed to be dealt with.”

 

Isshin sipped his coffee while avoiding his friend's eyes. “Nothing of the sort. I'm just checking on Sado-kun.”

 

“No you're not,” the shopkeeper immediately replied. He ignored the former shinigami's chuckle. “What are you really doing here?” 

 

“Just go back to bed, Urahara. I'll lock up when I leave.” 

 

His friend searched his face and, when it was clear nothing else would be offered, he stood from the table – mumbling as he made his way back to his room. “I hope you son appreciates what his elders do for him.” 

 

Isshin laughed once his friend was out of earshot. 

 

He was wondering the same thing himself. 

 

 

 


	9. Save it for a Rainy Day

_**Save it for a Rainy Day** _

 

**Rating : M**

 

**Well, it's been a little while again, but I hope you've got a hankering this am for some citrusy goodness.  :)**

**It rained like hell down here about a week or so ago. And I mean STORMED!  So, what happens when the lights go out and I can't do anything else? My mind goes into la-la land and an Ichi/Hime story plays out before my mind's eye. (I kinda enjoyed the power being out after that.   XD**

 

**Hope you enjoy the piece!**

 

**************************************************************

 

 

The doorbell rang just as thunder clapped overhead. The windows of the vizard's house shook with the great force, startling him from the game show on TV. With a grumble, Ichigo trudged his way to the door, silently cursing whoever was making him move about in such weather. Yet again, he wished Yuzu was there to handle their guests with her polite smile. He was already forced to fend for himself for that night's meal. Due to the weather warnings around the city, the rest of the Kurosaki family – who had been out shopping when the downpour started - were patiently waiting at a friend's house until the streets were safe to traverse once more. 

 

Ichigo fervently hoped it wasn't a patient awaiting him at the door. If someone was truly hurt, he wasn't sure what he would be able to do for them.

 

A soaked head of auburn hair met his narrowed gaze. 

 

She was already shaking from the cold, her thin pink shirt stuck to her curvy body, chilling her even further. Water puddled under her feet as she stood under his awning - trying to avoid the downpour as much as possible. 

 

"G-Good evening, Kurosaki-kun!"

 

Even in such deplorable conditions, the smile Inoue graced him with was full of cheer. 

 

"Get in here!" His weathered palm wrapped around her arm, tugging her inside the foyer and shutting the door to the resounding noise of rain pelting the pavement. "What the hell are you doing out in this mess, Inoue?" 

 

She took off her shoes as discreetly as possible, placing the water logged items to the far side of the wall. Try as she might, there was no way to avoid dripping water inside his house. Her arms were crossed under her chest, hugging her body for warmth. Drops of the chilling liquid fell from the ends of her short skirt. "I....I was at the store when the rain st-started. I thought I would b-be able to make it home." 

 

"Obviously that didn't work," Ichigo muttered to himself, though the healer heard his comment. She smiled in embarrassment.

 

"Sorry for coming here," her fingers fiddled with the wet material of her shirt. "When it s-started thundering and lightening so b-badly, I didn't think it was safe to stay outside." 

 

"No it wasn't." Ichigo couldn't stop the angry undertones from leaking into his voice. "You could've gotten yourself into real trouble like this, Inoue. Not to mention you're probably gonna get sick."

 

She waved a dismissive hand. "I'll be fine, Kurosaki-kun. I just wonder.....would be okay for me to rest here until the worst of the storm passes?" Her doe eyes accompanied her request.

 

"Would it......" His hand ran down his face, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips. "Of course it's fine, Inoue. Why don't you go take a shower to warm up and I'll try to find you something to wear." 

 

"Oh, but I don't want to trouble Kurosaki-kun any further th......"

 

"Inoue," he interrupted. "It's fine. Just come on." 

 

She mumbled her apologies, but dutifully followed him up the staircase. He dropped her off at the bathroom before retreating into his room to search for something she could wear. There was no way she was fitting into anything of the twin's and he refused to go through his father's room for anything - not knowing what the pervert had hidden away. A pair of pajama pants and an older t-shirt of his was the best Ichigo managed to find. He knocked on the bathroom door, intending to leave the clothes there for her to retrieve when he left, but it opened slightly, exposing one slim, bare arm with expectant fingers at the ready. He thrust the clothes into her waiting hands and rushed down the staircase with barely a parting word. 

 

While he wasn't one to normally prepare tea or other snacks in his home, with Yuzu absent, the substitute did his best to remember her steps. As the water boiled and he located the tea canister, Ichigo willed the redness covering his cheeks to subside. It seemed just the knowledge that a naked Inoue was waiting behind his bathroom door was enough to stir up unwanted thoughts. Not wanting to be labeled a pervert - like his ridiculous father - Ichigo forced his mind into another direction. 

 

Lightening flashed just outside the kitchen window, followed too closely by the deafening clap of thunder. He parted the thin curtains, peeking out at the darkened streets, but nothing could be seen for the torrential downpour currently flooding Karakura. He would feel better if his family was under the same roof with him, but knowing they were safe and dry would have to be good enough for now. 

 

"Kurosaki-kun?"

 

She stood behind him, a curious picture of innocence and sensuality. Damp, auburn tendrils clung to her neck. His pants slung low on her curvacious hips and his old t-shirt hung baggy on her frame. Inoue's bare toes wiggled against the chill on the floor. Why that sight was enthralling to the young man, he didn't know. 

 

"Kurosaki-kun?" she called again when he gave no response. 

 

Ichigo averted his eyes, absently scratching the back of his neck and turning away from the healer. "I...uh, I made some tea." He gestured to the - rather obvious - cups sitting on the counter. It was with great effort he hid the grimace from his face at his less than eloquent response. His mind was wandering and he was only getting more frustrated with himself at the reaction. 

 

However, Inoue didn't catch on to his plight and thanked him with her beaming smile. "Mmm, that's better," she commented after taking a sip of the steaming liquid. 

 

_The fuck is wrong with me?_ The substitute wondered as he caught himself staring at the tiny pink tongue which came to lick away the remaining droplets from her lips. With a mental shake of his head, Ichigo led his friend out of the kitchen. He wasn't acting like himself tonight. Perhaps it was the intimate atmosphere caused by them being locked away, alone, in his house? The unspoken knowledge that she would have to stay with him for an unknown period of time? The sight of her wearing his clothes? 

 

He prayed the cable was still working in spite of the storm raging outside. If he could just put on some mundane TV show, perhaps they could pass this evening normally. The vizard also prayed it would help alleviate the antsy feeling tingling away in his body. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but he was far from relaxed. 

 

"I'm really sorry about this Kurosaki-kun," her gentle voice called behind him. "I hate being a bother, but thank you so much for helping me." 

 

"Tch, you're not being a bother, Inoue." _This is my own problem._ "And you should know by now that I'll always be there to help you." 

 

The declaration was no more than a simple fact, but the flush to her cheeks and shy smile she rewarded him with had his skin tingling once more. It was a great relief when he heard the TV still playing. It didn't matter what was on, as long as there was something to occupy his mind. His book bag still sat on one end of the couch, exactly where he tossed it when he came in from school. 

 

"I'll get this out of the way," he commented to the busty woman. "Y-You can sit over here." This relentlessness was something he had never dealt with before and the fact that it was effecting him so strongly was pissing the vizard off. Ichigo jerked on the strap of his bag, with more force than necessary, and pulled it from the couch. In his self-pointed anger, the young man failed to notice the zipper being undone on the bag. As he moved it out of the healer's way, all the contents spilled across the floor. 

 

"Dammit," he cursed at the mess.

 

Almost immediately, Inoue sat her cup on the table and fell to her knees to begin picking up the scattered things. 

 

"Don't worry about it, Inoue. I'll get it." 

 

"It's no trouble Kurosaki-kun; I'm glad to help." 

 

He sent her a grateful smile and joined her on the floor. While sorting through the mess of his papers, Ichigo noticed her hands had stopped moving. Glancing up, he was stunned to see a bright blush covering her face. Her hands were clenched around a magazine that she stared wide-eyed at. Not remembering what he could possibly have in his bag to cause such a reaction, Ichigo leaned over to peer at the title. 

 

Rage was the first emotion that swept through him, followed quickly by disbelief and a rushing tide of embarrassment. There was no need for him to question the origin of the magazine; he knew precisely who put that in his bag. 

 

When he saw Keigo again, he was going to throttle his so called 'friend'. 

 

The woman on the cover lay across a rumpled bed, her deep red hair fanned on the silken sheets. Her eyes were filled with lust as she stared into the camera, one bright red nail pressing against her exposed nipple. Her other arm was draped down her body; her hand curling into her........

 

Ichigo ripped the magazine away from her tiny hands and quickly stuffed it back in his bag. "L-Listen, Inoue. This is not what you....."

 

"I-It's okay K-Kurosaki-kun," she stammered, hastily climbing to her feet and sitting at the far end of the couch. 

 

He tugged at the ends of his orange hair, frustrated and knowing there was nothing he could do about the bright blush covering his own face. "It's really not mine, it's that damn....."

 

"It's....it.....it's honestly okay, Kurosaki-kun." Though she couldn't turn to face him fully yet, Ichigo could see her stormy eyes peeking at him through the curtain of her hair. He was shocked enough at her insistence that he was silent for a moment. 

 

"I mean....it's only natural a m-man would h-have something like....like that, r-right?"

 

He couldn't respond to her, couldn't even shake his head in acknowledgment. Ichigo simply dropped his bag by the end of the couch and collapsed into the nearby chair. 

 

Silence stretched on between them. The only noise in the house was the distant sound of rain and the drone of the TV. Ichigo paid no heed to either; he was still trying to process the emotions warring inside him - though none had yet to win. 

 

Should he be more embarrassed over the situation? That was likely seeing as how not only had one of his friends managed to sneak a pornographic magazine into his bag, but one of his female friends had to be the one to find it. And not just any woman, but Inoue. 

 

He wanted to bang his head against something. 

 

He did his best to protect the woman across from him from so much and yet, for some reason, he felt as if he'd betrayed his own promise with this incident. To have Inoue, whom he greatly respected, think this trash magazine was his....

 

_Fucking hell._

 

He didn't know what to say to her at this point, so he opted to allow the uncomfortable silence between them to continue. He tried to focus on the mindless dribble coming from the television, but it was of no use. Flashes of anger and embarrassment continued to shoot through his poor, distraught mind.....along with one other incredibly bothersome emotion. 

 

The restlessness he'd experienced earlier had yet to recede. With the debacle that just occurred, Ichigo was sure he would no longer be plagued by the antsy feeling causing his skin to tingle. 

 

It was just the opposite. 

 

Having the wanton image bared to both of them, putting that connotation of sinful debauchery on display for both of them in this empty house had his gut twisting into knots. Unbidden, his eyes stole to his friend's profile for but a moment. She sat, legs tucked under her, blankly staring at the TV. Her ivory cheeks were still stained in red and she nibbled on her bottom lip. His dark eyes caught sight of something else in that instance that nearly forced a gasp from his throat. 

 

Ichigo turned his eyes away as if he were scalded. The very idea was ludicrous. His imagination - which had never caused him problems before this night - was simply running away with him. Ichigo shifted in the chair, crossing his legs, and desperately trying to stop his foot from tapping. He swore to himself his eyes would wander no more. 

 

That promise lasted all of two minutes. 

 

A glance to her face to assure she was still watching whatever program was on the TV - as he had long since given up trying to pay attention - was given before his eyes strayed down her body. Her hands were clasped in her lap, feet tucked under her curvy frame. Through the soft cotton of the old t-shirt he'd loaned her, the hardened form of her nipples were easy to discern. Try as he might to turn away, Ichigo was spell bound by their presence. 

 

She shifted in her seat causing the shirt to move with her body. He watched, utterly enraptured, as the cloth pulled tighter across the bounty of her chest. The tiny buds were much more noticeable through the taught fabric. If memory served him right, that woman photographed so brazenly on the cover of that magazine - now stuffed carelessly in his bag - had breasts tipped with dark peaks. 

 

He had a feeling Inoue's would be a softer, pale pink in color. 

 

His dark eyes continued to stare at those hidden nubs, fascinated now at the speculation of the color of those hardened tips. Shape he was already familiar with, but what about their color......and taste? 

 

Sweet. Ichigo somehow knew the taste of her skin would be sweet as candy and just as tart on his tongue. He shifted unconsciously in his chair as his blood began to run hot. His chin rested in his hand, tongue sneaking out to wet parched lips as he stared at the temptation before him. 

 

Her arms moved. Delicate hands lifted to her chest and her fingers worried with one another. His line of sight had been blocked and, with the removal of his object of fascination, some presence of mind returned to him. His eyes lifted to her face, his own cheeks soon mirroring the bright red blush painted on hers. Inoue continued to stare blankly at the TV, but there was no doubt in his mind he'd been caught ogling the poor woman. Her ears were tainted as red as her cheeks, teeth nibbling on her bottom lip, and her arms crossed over her chest. 

 

Ichigo prayed for a bolt of lightening to end his shame. 

 

How did one even go about apologizing for something like this? 

 

As he screamed obscenities at himself in his mind, his eyes caught sight of Inoue peeking at him across the room. 

 

Though she still fidgeted nervously in her seat, did he dare think that was a small smile lifting the corners of her lips? Was she not going to chastise him for his actions? What was behind that smile?

 

Before he could even formulate a sentence to ask the busty healer, a loud clap of thunder erupted over the house, shaking the windows, and greatly starling its inhabitants. 

 

The house was plunged into darkness. 

 

A bolt of lightening cracked right outside the windows, its white-blue light illuminating the room for a breath before once again covering everything in the inky dark of night. Another boom of thunder clapped, this time startling the healer so badly she jumped from her seat. Ichigo heard the table shift as she inadvertently knocked into it, right before the crash of her tea cup shattering across the floor. 

 

"Ow." 

 

"Don't move," he ordered, hurrying to reach her. She was unable to follow his command as the storm raged overhead, rattling the windows and casting eerie shadows across the empty home. Inoue hissed in pain, but rushed towards the sound of his voice. She collided with his strong chest, pushing them both backwards until his thighs hit the wide arm of the chair, stopping them. Another sound of shattering ceramic let him know his own cup - which had been perched on the edge of the table - now lay in ruins with her own. That knowledge was pushed to the bottom of his list of worries as her body trembled against his own. It was second nature to wrap his strong arms around her smaller frame, holding her tightly against his body. 

 

"Are you alright?"

 

"Y-Yes. I just," she hissed in pain as she shifted her weight. "I just stepped on a piece of the cup. I'm so sorry Kurosaki-kun." 

 

"Don't worry about it and don't move around either; I heard my cup break too. There's probably shards all over the floor." His hands closed over her waist, lifting her slightly as his own feet searched the area surrounding them for any other sharp fragments. 

 

Surprisingly, she giggled. "You're barefoot too you know?" 

 

"Tch," he scoffed at her logic. It didn't matter if he got injured, as long as she was alright. Thunder clapped once more making the woman in his arms shiver and bury herself further in his embrace. The scent of his own shampoo coming from her drying hair hit his nose and Ichigo realized the trouble he was in. 

 

In response to his own betraying thoughts, his hands flexed around her curvy frame. Even through the soft fabric of his shirt, he could feel the warmth of her supple skin. He gave in just a bit further, lowering his head until his nose was pressed against her crown. Beneath the scents of his own toiletries, her unique smell came through. Light, airy, utterly sweet......

 

He took a shuddering breath, one he couldn't hide in their situation. 

 

Her hands smoothed up his back and she mumbled something unintelligible against him. Her soft breasts pressed against his chest were driving him to distraction - though not as much as the warmth covering his hips. He barely held back a groan as she shifted, her pelvis brushing against his. Ichigo had no where to go, backed up to the chair as he was, so he had to endure the torturous pleasure of her body pressing against his ever rising member. 

 

Without realizing it, his breathing had increased its pace. His chest rising and falling rapidly as his fingers itched with a primal need. The vizard was about to push her away, anything to save himself from embarrassment, when he saw something that gave him pause. 

 

Inoue's own breath was coming in pants. He could feel the warm puffs of air hitting his chest. His hands stilled on her back, rising and falling rapidly with her torso. Ichigo's mind almost gave in to the idea that she was simply panicking in fear, until he heard the soft whine that came from her throat. Considering the state of his body, Ichigo was about to be a damned man no matter what and he preferred to take his chances on the information his mind was trying to process. Sliding his calloused hands down her body, his fingers spread wide across the small of her back and rocked her hips into his own. Even through the jolt of pleasure it gave him, he was able to discern the moan that tore from the healers throat. 

 

They both froze for a moment, the reality of the situation they were in settling in their brains. No drone of the TV, no claps of thunder, nothing but their harsh breathing was heard. Ichigo licked his parched lips, warring with himself, trying to formulate some rational thought as to what too do, which direction to go. 

 

They were both surprised when Inoue was the first to move. Slowly, her arms untangled themselves from round his back. Her fingers were hesitant - almost asking permission - as she trailed them up the hard plane of his abdomen. Ichigo watched, entranced, as they crept up his body, stopping over his chest and curling into the fabric. Her tongue swept across her lips and he felt himself throb. Silver-gray eyes watched him, gauging his reaction, ready to bolt at the first sign. 

 

The vizard held her gaze as he allowed his hands to travel lower, curling into the plump flesh of her ass, and pushing her hips firmly against his own. The breathy sigh she released was all the permission he needed. 

 

Far from caring what steps led them into this particular situation, Ichigo buried his nose into the thick mass of her auburn hair while she panted, open mouthed against his neck. His strong arms supported her weight as he lifted and held her against his body, grinding his swollen member against the apex of her thighs; he vaguely noted his own grunts of pleasure intermingling with her gasps. The sensual haze filling his brain banished all other thoughts. All the vizard could focus on was the feeling of her body moving against his, the erotic sounds slipping from her mouth, the unique scent she possessed. 

 

Ichigo lowered his head further, allowing his tongue to dart out and sample the alabaster flesh pressed so close to his own. Inoue shuddered under his touch, her head tilting sideways to open her skin for his perusal. Her honeyed taste stole his breath and made him yearn for more. A wanton gasp escaped the young woman when his mouth opened fully over her heated neck. 

 

Somewhere in the depths of Ichigo's brain he realized this situation was getting out of hand, but he had neither the capacity nor the desire to call a halt to the activity. Instead, he could only think of how to get her closer; how to quench this raging fire boiling his blood. Nimble fingers slipped beneath the hem of her borrowed pants, brushing against satin skin and holding her body in place as he set a primitive rhythm for the two. 

 

The delicate pads of her fingers slid up his corded throat, teasing the back of his neck, before threading through his hair. In an almost stark contrast to the lascivious interaction they shared, the kiss she placed to the corner of his lips was chaste - and tempted Ichigo in all manner of ways. 

 

Keeping in mind the shattered ceramic covering the floor, he held fast to her body, lifting her so her legs dangled against his own, and covered the short distance to the couch. He lowered himself to the plush cushions, coaxing her legs to part until she straddled his lean form. Despite the little light, her surprise was easy to read - as well as her embarrassed blush. He smiled up at the young woman, utterly enchanted by how beautiful her face was in the moonlight. He cupped her jaw, rubbing the rough pads of his fingers over her ivory cheeks. Inoue leaned against his hand, eyes fluttering closed at the gentle touch. 

 

As natural as if it occurred everyday, the vizard pulled the young woman towards him and claimed her lips in a tender kiss. There was no hesitation in her response as she melded her lips to his own - giving of herself however he asked. Ichigo took his time sampling the sweet taste of her, burning the memory into the very core of his brain. She offered no resistance when his tongue swept inside, mapping out the sensitive areas of her mouth with a muffled groan of pleasure. The vizard spread his thighs wider, forcing the healer to do the same. A muffled grunt escaped his lips when this action brought her own heated core flush against his own. 

 

Without need for any further prompting, things escalated quickly.

 

Arms entwined around each others bodies, lips sought furiously in the darkness, his hips raised into her own, forcing gasps and breathy sighs of pleasure to tumble from her cherry lips. Inoue's head fell back, the thick strands of her fiery hair brushing against the strong arm supporting her back. Ichigo allowed his hands to curl around the swell of her ass, pushing her even tighter against him while his tongue trailed along the ivory column of her neck. The sweet taste of her skin permeated his brain, heating his blood until the teen was sure he would melt under her presence. 

 

With a needy growl, his hands changed directions, sliding underneath the old shirt she wore and gliding up the tempting warmth of her torso. The heavy weight of her breasts filled his battle hardened palms, the tender skin giving way under his gentle caresses. 

 

He wasn't sure when or who had undone the button of his school trousers, but it certainly didn't matter when Inoue's soft hands were almost shyly teasing the throbbing length hidden inside. Ichigo continued to devour her lips, breathing in of her very essence while his hands roamed the bare flesh of her unbound breasts - rubbing against her hardened peaks and taking much pride in hearing the needy hitch in her breath. 

 

His tongue plunged into her mouth once more, battling for dominance and easily winning. Ichigo's mind was clouded with a desire he'd never experienced. Nothing was visible save for the woman in his arms and the need to quench the fire raging in his blood. The feather light touches Inoue gave to his swollen member were driving him to distraction and were far from sating the demanding need his body was placing on him. His hand lowered to cover hers, encouraging the healer to tighten the grip she held on his wanting cock. 

 

The hand on her hip curled into the tender flesh as his breath hissed through his teeth. _"Fuck......_ Inoue _,"_ he panted as his eyes blurred with the sharp onslaught of pleasure at her now firm grip. Through the darkness - and his still hazy vision - he could see the busty woman's eyes widen and a gleam of feminine knowledge sparked in their depths. With no prompting from the tightly strung vizard, her hand began making firm, long strokes down that hot appendage. 

 

It was Inoue's turn to press against his chest, pinning him to the couch as she crashed their bodies together; yet, she never stopped her devilish hand from moving. Ichigo growled against her lips, flexing his hips with her ever increasing pace. He held her steady as they moved in tandem - the friction of their bodies, hands curling, nails scraping, mouths desperate for the warmth of the other. 

 

 

Ichigo could feel it rising within him; that ever coiling tension pounding, pulsating, begging to be let out. His dark eyes gazed up at her, breath catching at the exquisite sight she provided. There was no comparison in his mind; Inoue's flushed cheeks and passion filled eyes were a much more erotic sight than the woman bared on the cover of that magazine. 

 

“Kurosaki-kun,” she panted above his lips, voice trembling with the intense emotions flooding her being. 

 

He captured her lips once more, exploring the sensitive area of her mouth. Even as he felt the moisture leaking from the tip of his engorged cock, Ichigo decided he wanted more. His hands stole into the borrowed pants she wore, fingers gliding over satin skin without the bother of barriers between them. The idea he held of wanting to be gentle with this precious creature was losing the battle with his desperate body. Yet, even as he squeezed the tempting flesh before him, kneading it within his impatient palms, never a protest passed her lips. Instead, he continued to hear the bewitching sounds of her pleasured cries. 

 

“ _Shit.”_

 

He wasn't sure how much longer he'd last under her enthusiastic hands. He feasted on her neck once more, lavishing her skin with his kisses, as his fingers found the soft patch of curls hiding her womanhood. Ichigo groaned against her skin, overwhelmed at the wet heat he found waiting for him alone. 

 

“........power must be out here too.” 

 

Inoue continued to undulate above him, head buried against his shoulder as his fingers inched ever closer to their goal. Though, his brain was now sending him warning signals – of which he ignored, too focused on the pleasurable task at hand. 

 

“Ku.....Kuro.....”

 

“Inoue,” his husky voice breathed against her ear. God, had he ever felt this good in his entire life?

 

“ **No, just stay out there girls! Wait for Daddy to find a flashlight.”**

 

The busty woman's fear stricken eyes sought him out in the darkness. Their bodies stilled, listening now to the obvious sounds of someone's overtly loud footsteps coming up the darkened hall. 

 

“I don't want you to **trip** on something and hurt yourself. Maybe **Ichigo is still awake**.”

 

“ _Oh no,”_ Inoue squeaked and rolled off his lap with more dexterity than he thought he'd ever seen her to possess. The sound of her clothes rustling as she hurried to right herself could be heard. 

 

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, trying his best to become presentable. Though, there was little he could do about his still aching member. How the fuck could he have missed his family's usually loud entrance into the house?

 

He stopped short, realizing just why he'd been unaware of the extra presence in his home. 

 

“ _Daddy really is sorry about interrupting you, Ichigo.”_ The vizard flinched, having missed his father's silent approach to the couch. His annoying voice whispered from right above him. _“But I doubt you'd want the girls to catch you right now.”_

 

“ _Shut the fuck up and get away from me,”_ he hissed at his father.Ichigo was eternally grateful for the lack of light in the house; the last thing he wanted was for his old man to actually see him right now. 

 

“ _Don't be so mean to your papa!”_ He scolded, though the ex-captain's voice held an undeniable humor. _“I'll have the girls upstairs and asleep before you know it!”_

 

“ _Would. You. Just. Go. Away?”_ If he clenched his teeth any harder he was sure to break his jaw. The chuckling from his old man wasn't helping matters. 

 

“Oi! Goat-chin! I found a light!” Karin's call could be heard from the hallway, along with the encroaching yellow light she found. Thankfully, his father had one merciful bone in his body and turned to meet the girls before they could reach him. 

 

“ _Oh, and it's always wonderful to see you Orihime-chan.”_

 

Said girl who'd cowered in the corner of the couch during their heated talk could only utter a mortified squeak at his whispered words. 

 

“Alright, come on girls. Let your fearless father guide you to your rooms through this.....ow!”

 

The dense sound of something striking Isshin could be heard. “Shut up, old man,” Karin grumbled. The couple on the couch watched in silence as the light trailed up the staircase and out of sight. 

 

The awkwardness of being caught in such a compromising situation had the teens allowing the gripping silence to hang between them. Ichigo wasn't quite sure where to go from here. What should he say to the woman across from him? A frustrated hand raked through his hair as his mind whirled, searching desperately for the right words to say. 

 

“Umm....I...I sh-should get going, I guess,” were the hesitant words that pierced the thick curtain of silence. 

 

His hand reached out, wrapping around her wrist as she started to stand. Though he might be unsure on some things, what Ichigo was certain of was he didn't want the woman to part from him just yet. “J-Just.....just stay here,” he said; his confidence growing with his words. “There won't be any lights from the power being out and you're not gonna walk home this late and in the dark.” 

 

“But Kurosaki-kun....”

 

“But nothing,” he said, standing from the couch and pulling her along with him. 

 

“If I just....” Ichigo caught her words as he silenced her with a kiss. Though he startled her, she was soon swept up in the action as well – clinging to his broad frame as he robbed her of every thought. 

 

“You're not going anywhere,” he breathed against her lips. Her heartbeat pounded frantically against the gentle hold he had on her wrist. Ichigo vaguely wondered if she could feel how his matched her own. Delicate fingers entwined with his, following obediently as he led them up the stairs. 

 

Regardless of how the night progressed, he was still kicking Keigo's ass in the morning. 

 

**************************************************************

 

 

 

**What can I say? The power came back on!   :)**


	10. Inked

Even through the wooden panels of her family home, she could hear his ragged breathing coming from inside the dwelling. Knowing he'd been training with her nii-sama, she didn't fear for his state of health. She did, however, let out a long sigh of frustration – she could only imagine the damage they would have caused to the training area and to each other. Her socked feet made little noise as she reached the room. Rukia knelt low, easing aside the sliding panel and bowing her head before taking stock of the sole  occupant inside. Her dark eyes scanned the area, confusion soon filing their depths.

 

"Where is nii-sama?"

 

Renji lay sprawled on the tatami mats, arms and legs akimbo, and his long mane of fiery red hair unbound around him. He huffed another breath, lolling his head until he could see her smaller figure. "At the....barracks," he huffed, sucking in a large breath before slowly releasing it. "He said he had paperwork due to the commander."

 

Without her brother present, Rukia did away with the usual formalities and strode into the room, throwing an amusing glance at the other vice captain. "I take it he beat you.....again."

 

"Barely," Renji replied, turning away from her gaze.

 

"Uh huh."

 

"I was holding my own."

 

"Sure."

 

"He activated his bankai two minutes into the spar."

 

" _Oh_." This time, her voice held a note of surprise. The petite shinigami settled down near him, getting comfortable as she thought over his words. If her nii-sama truly had activated his bankai so early, Renji was getting much more powerful. She did her best to hide her smile from his gaze, not wanting to let him know how that pleased her. Still, she couldn't resist sending a barb his way. "I doubt he was huffing like this on his way to the barracks though."

 

"Shove it," he mumbled.

 

This time, she didn't bother turning away her smiling face. The red head closed his eyes, letting his heartbeat return to normal and seemingly ignoring her presence. Rukia briefly thought about tossing something at his head, but her wandering eyes landed on a sight that held her tongue. In his tired state, Renji had loosened his kosode, letting the cooling breeze trail over his heated skin. Pitch black lines marred the tanned chest hidden beneath his uniform. Rukia had long since known he was tattooed - considering he paraded them in front of her the first time he got one. Though, their number had increased in the last decade. Curiosity nagged at her now......how many did he have?

 

Rukia checked once more, making sure his eyes remained closed and breathing had evened out, before she continued her perusal. The edges of his kosode had slipped further open and the curious woman slipped a bit closer during her inspection. Thick, dark lines spread across his chest - their patterns dancing around one another in an intricate, chaste dance as they remained close, yet never touched. They arched gently over his body, almost reaching his clavicle before disappearing beneath the cotton of his clothes. Her eager eyes followed their path over his smooth skin, noting the bare patch between the matching works of art.

 

Facts she instinctively knew yet had never _noticed_   began showing themselves. Renji trained hard, had always done so as he learned his swordsmanship, but when had she failed to notice the definition of his body? The corded muscles of his neck, the width of his shoulders, the defined lines of his chest gently rising with each breath. Unconsciously, Rukia moved closer to the object of her study. Had it hurt? she wondered. Each time he added to the ink covering his muscled frame, every time the needle pierced his skin, did he have to endure much pain for the sake of his artwork? Her head angled, twisting in an attempt to see what designs lay beyond the clothing - though to no avail. It frustrated her; now that she began her perusal she _had_ to see the rest.

 

Like a child caught in the act of doing something bad, she felt her breath catch when her eyes trailed upwards and met his staring into her own. "Wha....what?" she barked, trying to cover her surprise.

 

"What are you doing?"

 

"Nothing," she threw out flippantly, raising her chin slightly. "I was just looking."

 

The barest of smirks came to his face. "At what?"

 

"Your tattoo, nothing else." Rukia crossed her arms, refusing to acknowledge what would be a blush trying to sport on her face.

 

"Why? It's not like it's the first time you've seen it."

 

"I know that!" she spat. "But I've never....I don't know, looked at it...I guess."

 

He studied her for a moment, enjoying the various expressions that crossed her face, before he sat upright. Red hair trailed over his shoulders in it's unbound state, the dark lines of the tattoo spiking up his forehead peeking through the thick curtain. "So?"

 

"What?"

 

"You wanna see the rest of it?"

 

The petite woman held his gaze silently. What he offered wasn't much and yet, it felt as if it was. Her mouth suddenly felt dry and a sense of anticipation built inside her. The only way she knew to hide her nervousness was to put the proud facade back on her face. Looking directly in his obsidian eyes, she willed her voice not to waver. "Yes, I do."

 

That smirk was firmly in place as he slipped the kosode from his shoulders. It took all she had not to kick him for that. Rukia held her tongue, but only because she could now clearly see what eluded her earlier. The dark patterns crawled over his chest, cradling his shoulders before breaking off into separate lines. Rukia was no longer concerned with his amusement as her concentration was once again focused on the black lines carved into his body. Closer still she inched towards Renji, her focus locked on the intricate artwork. The ink dipped and curved with his body's lines, giving depth to the picture it presented.

 

Rukia slid to his side, admiring the bold artwork covering his corded neck. It disappeared into his hairline, hiding its origins from her sight. She followed the bare patch of skin leading to his shoulders where the ink began once more. The patterns from his chest stopped, fracturing off into a set of lines hugging his bicep like a lovers fingers. She suddenly itched to trace those dark colors – see if she could feel the very ink beneath his skin. The thick tracks tapered as they curved his arm, disappearing under the limb. She followed their path, her knees rustling against the floor as her journey moved  to his back.

 

His long red hair obscured her view and, unthinking, she reached out, fingers brushing against his neck. It wasn't until she felt his muscles jump that she realized what she'd done. Renji turned his head, gazing at her out the corner of his eye. Though she felt heat tickling her cheeks, she didn't remove her hand. "I...I can't see," she explained, her voice soft in the silent room. There was a barely perceptible nod of his head before he faced forward once more. Rukia continued on, enjoying the silky feel of the thick strands as she swept them aside.

 

Patterns exposed themselves to her eyes. Bold, dark lines covered the breadth of his shoulders, sliding over the dips and grooves of his muscles. Curious fingers could hold back no more and reached out to touch what laid before her. There was still a trace of sweat lingering from his earlier exertion, but that was far from a deterrent. Her fingers danced down those paths, marveling at the tiny nuances she could feel in his marked skin. The warmth seeping into her fingers was familiar, comforting, and exciting at the same time. It encouraged her to move forward, sliding along behind him as she explored his naked skin. Though Rukia saw the colors continue down his back, she stayed with the pattern she was exploring, anxious to follow it across his body.

 

Renji pulled his legs in, crossing them to give Rukia more room as she came to sit before him. Her hands swept his hair back over his shoulder, fingers trailing down his arm and spreading over the lines covering his skin. She had come full circle; the exploration of the tattoo on his upper body complete yet.......she didn't want to stop. Rukia had never looked at his body art this closely, never felt his skin like this. Both hands came to explore the identical patterns marking the sides of his chest, fingers sometimes wandering beyond those drawn lines to trace the hollow of his throat. His chest rose and fell beneath her fingers, the pattern erratic at times. Her eyes yearned to see more and she glanced down at the dark lines on his stomach. Because he was sitting, their design wasn't clear. Under his hunched frame, they were hidden from her view.

 

"Stand up."

 

Her command went unanswered, the silence breaking her concentration and forcing her to find his eyes. Renji's face was....controlled, brown eyes hiding some emotion she couldn't name. He didn't speak, merely raised an eyebrow in question. She had to pause to find her voice before speaking again.

 

"I can't see it clearly. Stand up."

 

Thankfully, her words held strong, the commanding tone reverberating through them. He answered her order, standing slowly before her kneeling frame, her fingers dragging down his skin until it was out of reach. Rukia lowered her head, hiding her face from view as she made to stand as well. This pause in the..... _observation_ she was making of his tattoos brought uncertainties floating to the surface. While nothing she had asked of him was untoward, there was a heavy charge in the air - an unusual feeling that made her very skin tingle. Rukia was no longer sure of her actions, something that never set well with her. With that nagging doubt in mind, she wondered if she should even continue - until she lifted her head.

 

The significant height difference between them never bothered her before and today she found it to be more to her advantage than ever. The dark lines drawn on the bronzed background were eye level with the petite shinigami. They slid down his toned frame, etched into the well worn muscles and teased the eye with their boldness. There was no more hesitation, no more doubts about looking her fill at the painful art he'd carved into his body. Tiny fingers reached out, skittering along his ribs, tracing their journey down his abdomen.

 

Rukia wasn't aware of the quick smile she showed, nor how her teeth came to worry her lip, as Renji's body twitched with every sweep of her hand. The young woman was too focused, too enthralled with the vast discovery that lay before her. She stepped closer, spreading both hands over the symmetrical lines down his impressive torso. Again she could feel the subtle nuances between his naked and colored skin - and it had her huffing a laugh in wonder. From the top of his ribs to the line of his hakama she stroked the surprisingly smooth skin before her. As before, the lines of his tattoo disappeared beneath the shihakusho and she held back the urge to click her tongue in annoyance.

 

With her line of sight disrupted, Rukia rounded his body, eager to continue her exploration. The inky pathways she'd abandoned earlier were now perfectly within her reach. Small hands swept wide over his comparably massive back, fingers moving aside the heavy strands of vibrant red hair obscuring her view. He shivered under her touch, sucking in a heavy breath she could not only hear, but feel through the expansion of his body. Her hands curled, nails raking down his chiseled frame. Closer still she moved towards the vice captain, tracing the black lighting bolts encasing his spine. Rukia felt almost dizzy as his scent filled her head. Unconsciously, her eyes closed, letting her hands roam his tapered waist while she breathed deep of him. Each breath revealed a new layer of his scent - wind rushing through the trees, the grass he'd walked upon, the spicy, distinctly male aroma that was all his own.

 

Rukia braced her weight against him, a languid feeling taking hold of her limbs. Her fingers moved across his skin with a laziness that left goosebumps in its wake. She saw them and, fascinated, would circle that particular patch of skin again in an attempt to reproduce them. Boundaries that had been in place for so many years were being broken; yet, she couldn't find the will to bring a halt to her actions. The strict codes she followed as an adopted member of the Kuchiki clan were the furthest thing from her mind as her eyes caught sight of another tattoo peeking above the top of his pants. Becoming even more daring, her nimble fingers trailed under the very top of Renji's hakama, pulling aside the black cloth and further exposing the art hidden from her eyes.

 

The clothing taunted her, casting shadows she was unable to see through, keeping his body from her eager eyes. Smooth hands slipped further down his hips, thumbs stroking over the identical patterns on each side of his body. It was unacceptable that this canvas wasn't fully exposed for her viewing. She wanted to see more....wanted to see it all. Heat rose unbidden to her cheeks as the implications of her mental monologue became clear, but she couldn't let a thing like her embarrassment bring a halt to what she'd begun. With her hands gripping his warm flesh, she rested her head against his body and dared to speak aloud her command.

 

"Take them off."

 

She felt another ripple pass through his body before an indistinctable sound reverberated in his throat. Rukia could see his hands clench by his side, the muscles of his arm tensing under the pressure he exuded. Her heart pounded in her chest, nervousness coursing through her as she waited for his compliance to the bold order she gave.

 

"Rukia....."

 

"I can't," she interrupted his husky voice, forcing him to be silent once more. Talking had not factored into her plan. No matter what he said, Rukia had no idea what to reply with. She knew what she wanted, but articulating those feelings was beyond her ability at this moment. Only by allowing her body to control her actions could she continue. She couldn't explain it and had no desire to do so at the moment. Fumbling with words she couldn't grasp would do nothing but slow down, perhaps halt, this moment. That was something she couldn't allow. “I can't see it properly,” she began again, her voice barely a whisper against his back.

 

She could feel the tension, the hesitancy coursing through him, but she maintained her firm grip on his hips – willing him to comply with her wishes. His hands clenched once more before slowly moving from her line of sight. Rukia almost scoffed at the relieved smile that came to her face.

 

When had Renji ever denied her anything?

 

With a soft rustle of cloth, his hakama fell from his body, pooling at their feet. Her head resting against his back had afforded her a view of their descent and a moment by moment exposure of that which was once hidden from her. Odd that the first thing she noticed was the uniformity of his bronzed skin. No sun kissed lines decorated his lean frame. She would file that information away to inquire about later.

 

Mindless of the potential danger arising from their current situation, Rukia let her fingers curve over the rise of his taut ass, following the obsidian designs etched into his skin. While she traced the patterns, the young woman couldn't help but to wonder who had drawn these? When did he have them done? She wasn't exactly privy to seeing him in such an advanced state of undress so Rukia had no idea how long he'd been marked so extensively. The bold drawings coiled along his thighs, presenting themselves almost like tiger stripes on the fukutaicho. Blunt nails skittered along the surface of his skin, marveling at the beauty of each mark.

 

The tattoo wrapped round his hips – symmetrical patterns almost completely encircling his body. Rukia was slow to follow their path, finding one more barrier to her inquisitive eyes. The twisted, white cotton of his fundoshi lay through those black lines, shielding their final form against her gaze. Her tongue darted out, wetting suddenly dry lips while her fingers teased closer to that white line.

 

Regardless of this unexpected barrier, the need to see all of his tattoo was an overwhelming urge she couldn't sweep aside. Perhaps even more so now that she had exposed those patterns layer by layer, building her anticipation with each passing moment. Yet, her hesitancy returned ten fold as the implications of this final article of clothing weighed in her mind. She was going to be asking him to.....

 

Something tugged low in her belly, nearly pulling a whimper from her lips. A fine tremor ran through her arms and she prayed Renji could not feel it – removing her hands from his body wasn't an option she would consider. She chastised herself, hating that – even in this moment – she was allowing a form of weakness to take root in her body. Summoning her courage, her petite fingers ran down his side, deliberately lingering over the white cloth laying in her way. This may be something new to her, but even her own doubts would not stop her.

 

With her eyes focused on his chiseled frame, she slowly rounded his body, letting her fingers trail behind in her wake. While she couldn't meet his eyes just yet, Rukia could feel his heavy stare. She was almost desperate to know what was running through his mind as his hands lay still at his sides, allowing her to toy with the edges of his fundoshi. It was taking a great deal of courage to continue touching him like this; she doubted she had anymore left to ask such questions of him. She gathered what few strands of bravery she had left and, with a deep breath, tilted her head back.

 

The emotions he hid before were laid bare on his angular face. His eyes were hooded, swirling with an unspoken heat that had the air rushing from her lungs and leaving her to wonder if she'd ever draw another breath. Rukia could feel the fierce energy humming under his skin, giving off an aura she found herself submitting to. Her hands shook, knees trembled, and the command she'd been poised to give died on her lips. Time stopped for that instance as she fell prey to the hungry expression filling his face.

 

While there were things in this afterlife she had not experienced, she wasn't wholly ignorant to their meanings. Her close proximity to his large body made one thing abundantly clear; one thing she had no hope of ignoring. She could feel it, pressing against her stomach, making his stance on this moment clear.

 

Still, Renji did not move.

 

While her fingers traversed dangerous waters – tracing the tattoo down his defined stomach, dipping under the band of his fundoshi – Renji's hands stayed by his side. Only his eyes moved, flickering between her face and watching the daring move her hands made. She wet her lips once more, eyes staring at the large bulge she pressed against. He was letting her make the decision, waiting to see what course she would take before he followed along. It was the same pattern they'd followed since their days running around Rukongai and, even in this, he wasn't going to change that.

 

She tilted her head back, meeting his hungry gaze with a curious one of her own. “I can't see......”

 

He took possession of her lips, swallowing her words as he devoured the flesh which tempted him for so long. Rukia was helpless against his onslaught, having the presence of mind only to grip his shoulders and hold on as his mouth slanted over hers again and again. Large hands soon spanned her waist, effortlessly dragging her up his body until he stood comfortably straight. Renji continued his assault on her lips, even when she felt him move across the room. Rukia left their safety in his hands, content to drown in this new pleasure he introduced her too.

 

“Just remember Rukia,” he whispered against her lips, moving to cradle her against his body. His now freed hand opened an interior door, leading them to a room shadowed from the afternoon light. “You started this.”


	11. Reflections

 

 

 

 

He wasn't sure how it started. 

 

As odd as that sounded, even in his own mind Ichigo simply couldn't pinpoint the moment he came to the conclusion that sleeping with his friend was a good idea. Never had he made a decision that seemed so _off_ with his moral compass. It befuddled him so much that he'd avoided all company the next day. Locked in the safety of his room, he questioned his thoughts and actions for hours. The substitute battled with this unexpected and drastic occurrence until he fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. The next morning, he had no clear answers and a conscious that was far from appeased at his hand in the event. 

 

That morning was three months ago and, as he lay in the darkened room listening to the soft sounds of her breathing next to him, Ichigo was no closer to an answer. He had long since given up feeling disgusted with himself for succumbing to his body's demands; had given up the guilt ridden feelings he once let occupy his mind for taking her innocence. Ichigo might not have a firm grasp on his reasoning, but he accepted what happened and knew he wouldn't, couldn't, stop now. Almost as a reaffirmation of his train of thought, Ichigo turned slightly, aligning his body down the length of her curves and breathing deep of her flowery scent. He buried his nose amongst the mass of silken strands covering her creamy throat as his arm encircled the slender waist before him. Rather than becoming used to the feel of her naked skin, Ichigo found himself becoming more infatuated with every encounter. 

 

She stirred slightly and he immediately stilled, fearful he had disturbed her sleep. Ichigo could count himself lucky for she simply snuggled in his arms and continued to dream. Calloused fingers stroked smooth skin, retracing patterns of freckles he'd burned into his brain, and his mind wandered to the first time he held her. 

 

There was nothing unusual that precipitated the event. No battle that had his blood racing, no life or death moment he could use to blame his actions on. In fact, the day had been a rather boring one. A mundane string of events that, for a man wondering when he would next spill blood, had been a welcome one. While the day began without flare, it most certainly did not end without it. Memories jumped from sharing notes on their history class to bodies pressing together, breath intermingling, and clumsy movements leading them both to a pleasure they could only imagine. Ichigo clearly remembered the wonder of seeing her alabaster flesh being exposed to his hungry eyes for the first time. Inch by inch he gazed his fill, ignorant of the embarrassment it caused her. Sight gave way to touch, his fingers now mapping out the dips and curves of her body. Instinct led him down the path of discovery, leaving no area devoid of his exploration. 

 

Ichigo let his fingers wander higher up her body now, retracing those steps he made months ago. The beauty mumbled in her sleep, unconsciously moving closer to the digits which teased her flesh. He kissed her bare shoulder, lips lingering against unmarred perfection as he traced the plump lines of her breasts. 

 

The revelation of that bounty had taken his breath that day. Heat flooded his already burning body, setting nerves on fire as he descended on her tightening buds. Hands which had been once stained with blood took extra care as they tested their weight, marveling in their delicious shape. The sounds pouring from her throat enthralled him, pushed him to tease their pink tips further. Her keening cries climbing up the bare walls satisfied a deep portion of his soul.

 

He palmed her breast, letting his fingers slip around the budding nipple. His manhood began to ache; the stimulation of memories and the warmth currently laying in his arms more than he could stand. A whine sounded in her throat, one muddled and confused in sleep, but her body knew how to respond to his touch. The smooth curve of her ass pressed against his rising member, her body slowly twisting as he called back life to the fire he'd only recently put out. 

 

Ichigo had been too overwhelmed during their first encounter to fully explore all the hidden secrets of her body. It was only later, after he'd shed the insecurities he once held to, that he could work past her final defenses and impress himself into every inch of her body. As the substitute began to slowly pulse his hips against her plump cheeks, he recalled the way they first felt under his fingers. The shocked gasp she'd uttered drowned out the innocent opposition she tried to give. Embarrassment flooded her body, warming her skin even further as he bit into her tender flesh. Ichigo pulled back, licking a path to her neck as the delicious memory of her squirming in his grasp played out in his mind's eye. Though he'd already been inside her, she hid her face like a virgin, mumbling her protest as he kissed his way across her quivering ass. 

 

The vizard muffled his groan against her shoulder blades, his twitching member grinding against her flesh. That particular memory was one that plagued him during the dark of night. Fingers twisting in the sheets, thighs trembling under his touch, keening wails of painful pleasure echoing in the room as he slammed into her again and again from behind. He would draw out his own pleasure as he worked his shaft alone in his room, recalling her teary eyes as she gave in to the passion they created together. That was something he, only recently, acknowledged about himself - he thoroughly enjoyed coaxing her into tossing aside her inhibitions with their lovemaking. The taboos she held in her mind were nothing more than challenges for him to overcome. 

 

He abandoned her breast, letting his hand slide down her flat belly until fingers met the soft curls hiding her core. Ichigo angled his body, pressing her firmly into the mattress while his fingers delved into the apex of her thighs. Her breath stuttered, hitching with pleasure as he brushed against that hidden pearl. He watched her eyes flutter, but never fully open as she danced in the world between asleep and awake. 

 

The sweet smell of her body soon flooded his nose and Ichigo couldn't contain his groan of want. A bead of moisture leaked from the tip of his engorged cock as he plunged his fingers deeper into her liquid heat. The tantalizing, musky smell was one he was familiar with – both scent and taste. Perhaps out of everything they'd experienced together, burying his face between her thighs was the one thing she shied away from. Each time she noticed him taking that journey down her body, the busty woman began to protest – turning her face away in embarrassment and begging him not to go near such a _'dirty'_ area. It was a source of amusement for Ichigo now; to watch her eyes water, cheeks grow red, and knees clench together in an attempt to deter him from his goal. 

 

It was all for naught. Each time, Ichigo would work her body into such a frenzy that when his tongue came to stroke the deepest part of her, tiny hands held him firmly in place despite her vocal objections. She would undulate as he drank his fill of her addicting taste – tugging at his hair, back bowing when she inevitably came apart under his touch. 

 

Ichigo rose above her, turning her to her back before taking her lips with fervor. No matter how often their bodies joined, he could never get used to the anticipation, the wonder, the spine buckling heat that consumed him as soon as he held her in his arms. Crossing the barrier between worlds held only a minute fraction of the fascination he found in the fiery red head winding her body around his. 

 

“Kuro.... _ahh_.......saki-kun,” she gasped when he pulled himself away from her lips. Ichigo smirked when he saw her eyes open, their smoky depths already drowning in desire. He pulled her leg around his hip, angling her body and entering her fully in one swift move. The onslaught of pleasure was too much and her head fell back against the pillows. Ichigo took the opportunity to lavish the ivory column of her throat with his tongue. He ground against her hips, sheathing himself in her tight passage as far as possible. 

 

A growl ripped from deep in his chest. He rose on his arms, searching out her stormy eyes. “Mornin' Inoue,” he drawled, punctuating the sentence with a slow thrust of his hips. He tried to hold to the smirk on his face, but the effort required proved too great. Every cell in his body was wholly focused on the raging fire burning in his belly. His movements no longer held the mark of a steady, controlled man seducing his partner. Instead, they became the wild, unrestrained actions of a man lost to his passions. 

 

The vizard pounded into her voluptuous body, pushing them higher towards that ever approaching peak. Her breath was hot against his throat, mouth open, panting against his skin. Inoue's words tumbled over each other, mingling together in their race to be heard first. 

 

“ _Lo...y.u....lo....I...loveyou....I love....you, Iloveyou, Iloveyou.”_

 

His body drew tight as a bow string, jaw clenching when his climax ripped through him. He shuddered above her, his arms rapidly growing weak causing him to collapse atop her. Ichigo rolled slightly, removing his weight from her body, but holding her tight as she still trembled with the aftershocks of her own pleasure. His lips lingered at her hair, the smile on his face hidden amidst their silken strands. 

 

Inoue might have a better grasp on the force pulling them together, but he was a quick study.


End file.
